The Pinnochio Complex
by SleepyCantWrite
Summary: Psychodoughboy/Mr Eff eventually. Johnny C's been to heaven and hell and back; effectively flushing the waste. The Doughboys served their master, served their purpose, and were reclaimed. But then what?
1. Lost

Minor edits -29/9/08

* * *

This was not something unfamiliar.

_Something? _Some_where_?

Familiar.

_But why?_

The question triggered a vague, distorted memory of a memory which struggled to explain, promising understanding if only it could be recalled, but it kept getting lost in the static and was therefore discarded. There was nothing here but static, and for that reason, it was deafening. It made thinking laborious –concentrating near impossible. There was nothing to focus on except that constant buzz and hiss and crackle that came from everywhere and nowhere at all. But, like the repetitive ticking of a clock, perhaps one would cease to hear it after time passed. Perhaps _then_ it would be easier to concentrate.

_Nothing here…where _was_ here? _How could anything feel so familiar, yet so alien, at the same time? After all, the initial, subconscious instinct was of recognition.

_Meant to be here._

_Belong here_

_Was it like this before?_

_Before…here before?…Is that why?_ Like waking from a dream. _Was it a dream? Was _what_ a dream? There must have been something before this…before this void, this nothingness…for it to feel like waking up._

_It's cold_

No, there was nothing. It's just an illusion, something fabricated. Cold didn't - couldn't - exist here, just the same as light or darkness. It was simply space completely lacking anything whatsoever; no matter, no energy, no life. In a horribly beautiful way, that made it perfect, although when perfection came into this equation was uncertain. It seemed correct though, and required being consciously acknowledged as anything slightly important did; nothing could spoil it purely because nothing existed.

_Does time exist?_

_..._

_Do I exist?_

_I. Self awareness. Does self awareness determine existence?_ It didn't matter here. Logic was apparently little more than a novelty, a quaint idea that had next to no use at all; the effects being more important than the causes.

_Surely this is existence- or a figment of it at least._

Mentally Being in this place was almost certain ("almost" as merely Being was still undetermined), however as far as physically went, there was no evidence of that. But how can a mind survive alone without the anchor of a body?

…_am I the void?_

As warped as things were, that seemed too surreal, even for this place. The thought was discarded quickly.

Even though the amount of time elapsed since being here was uncertain, that is if time actually did exist. It appeared that the longer one existed in this void, the more it felt like waking from a long sleep. The drowsy, dreamlike feeling gave way to something clearer, and rational thought returned to take its place.

_I couldn't have been dreaming_

Existing only mentally allowed every direction to be visible at once, seeing as there wasn't any physical barriers to prevent it, but even then, the surroundings didn't give any clue to the location. Black stretched for immeasurable distances, only it wasn't shadow as there was no light source. It was just space devoid of light. Another scope of the bleak landscape just confirmed what had already been established; that it wasn't willing to surrender any answers, and even then it would take great effort to determine what they were answering anyway. The rapidly multiplying questions were becoming increasingly difficult to extract and separate, causing them to blur and tangle into meaningless noise.

The only option that seemed open, or of any use whatsoever, was to figure out how this could have possibly happened; there was no telling if this place was now a permanent residence, and that wasn't bearable to think about. There must have been something before this…this…emptiness. But it all seemed too familiar, leading to the conclusion that whatever existence came before this could have just been one wonderful dream. Reality was hard to define. Before seemed real, but Now seemed equally so – but it was impossible that both could co-exist as the differences were just too extensive, and the possibility of parallel dimensions ("_or whatever"_) was too complex a concept to grasp. It had to be one or the other…right? Choose…

_If it _was_ a dream…_

The easiest explanation so far.

_...did I ever leave?_

However, something contradicting stirred, hope perhaps, which pointed out that a mind could not possibly sleep. Only physical bodies need sleep, and it was apparent such things did not exist here. So the previous theory of having dreamt the previous occurrences was abandoned, almost regretfully as it would have been so much simpler to accept. Now came the arduous task of selecting a starting point from the vast emptiness and static and hazy memories and gradually build up understanding. What to do with this information if or when it was found could be decided upon after reaching said conclusion.

_So what did come before this?_

It was the only logical thing to do, as finding a way out was impossible.

_Something must have existed before this nothingness, otherwise I wouldn't be aware anything was wrong. It all seems so familiar…fuck, why can't I remember?_

A memory broke free defiantly from the static. As the mind is responsible for mental images, the memory was displayed in the void three-dimensionally with ethereal luminescence, shimmering and waving like ripples in a puddle. The images flickered and grew heavy with white-noise when parts became too indistinct to remember, much like a television losing signal. The soundless image was of a wall, cracks blossoming in the plaster on an eternal loop of forming and growing, forming and growing –although the motion was jerky; a scratched record. The memory crackled from view after repeating itself around a dozen times, and the static was present again, seemingly louder than before. Though, it was hard to tell whether it just felt that way because of the return in awareness of it. Meanwhile, the memory of the wall failed to stir any sense of importance whatsoever; it was probably just something plucked at random. But it was a memory of something other than the void nonetheless, and that was the crucial detail. After deciding a mind could not dream, the memory could only support the theory that there was an alternative existence before this one.

_So then, where am I, and how did I get here? The last thing I -_

…

_I._

_My name…surely I had a name…_

…

…

_I know it I know it it's who I am, I just…Shit! Fucking shit! How can anyone forget their own fucking name!?_

Any tired, half-consciousness was completely lost, and rational, "eloquent" thought had replaced it. Funny how expletives, as crude as they are, could be the elusive start to unravel the yarn ball; to find the end housed securely in the middle. Or was it the end to find the start? Beginning, middle, end. Eh. Although the sense of belonging in the void was still dominant, there was the almost definite knowledge that, some other reality existed, something better – if only because anything was better than this nothingness. That had not been there before…hard conviction had replied vague feeling.

…_I was here before. I can't say that based on facts, because there are none. Facts aren't in their abundance here, but I just _know_, and that holds more value here anyway...But then…where did I go? _Why_? Through deduction I know I went somewhere. God damn, what is my name!? It's not like I can ask anyone-_

…

_I wasn't alone the first time. I remember now. There was someone else. Not separate._

_Together._

_We were made together in the beginning…made…by who? Not important. No not now. We were together we…we._

…_who?_

_Not together now. Why? Alone. Not complete, not whole. We were separated…separated…existed on our own- without the other- apart, separate- control. To control. Us? Us…_

_That's when we left here. When we were separated_

Rapid thoughts hurtled past after the first memory to begin the unraveling process was found. It was the key to unlock the torrent of memories which had been concealed. Images vortexed round and crashed into one another, sometimes merging completely to play overlapping, to form a violent visual display of restless light and pictures on fast-forward. It could be safe to assume the static had been used to prevent anything being remembered, interfere with carrier signals, distort them, scramble them; explaining the difficulty of recalling any memories. Anything here seemed plausible. But why try to hide them? It was hardly a breakthrough as there was still no apparent means of escaping to that forgotten reality. Then again, there was no hard evidence to suggest that past memories had been hidden. It could just be the effect of switching realities, or the effect of the void itself.

Just like waking from a dream and not being able to recall it until an event triggered a memory of it later on.

But the memory had been triggered, the path through the static clear, and not so invincible any more.

There was something else to consider now, after the flood of recent revelations. If there had been, indeed, another being here the first time, there was the possibility they were here again.

That's if they left in the first place…

…_did they come with me…when we were separated? Separated to control…control us. But why? I can't think! Fuck, I don't know what to do! I'm not any closer to understanding than when I first…_

"Woke up here" didn't seem like the right phrase to use. It had to be more complex than that. Desperately, any trace of a memory was chased in hope the fragments would amount to something that would make sense. More was beginning to push through the hazy barrier and become clearer, but the feeling many things were being blocked by something greater was hard to get rid of. A challenge, perhaps? Who could say.

…_think. There was the wall…someone else…separated. Controlled._

_Manipulated._

Another significant word allowed more memories to escape, and with such ease they found themselves home in the mind. They belonged there, like one enormous jigsaw where the pieces all fit neatly into place. The holes were now visible and could be filled in with little effort. Just start with the edge pieces and work inwards.

_We were together all the way_

_With me before, with me after, and then…? Insert disk two. Press next to continue._

_Created for a purpose- both of us. Our purpose…opposite. Conflicting._

_Conflict._

Any preliminary hold the static, or anything else for that matter, had, was now severed. The ties holding back the memories had been cut loose, allowing them to find their appropriate places amongst each other. The regained knowledge brought with it a sense of security, and strangely the void didn't feel so overwhelming anymore. It was still endless, and confusion still prevailing, but maybe with the newly salvaged memories, an answer might be waiting to be found.

_We weren't Real._

The final restraints were destroyed.

_Installation finished. User online._

…_we were never Real. Figments. Voices. Created to be controlled by something bigger. Created for their purpose._

_Fucking puppets._

…_destruction. Self-destruction. I was the Voice of Self-Destruction.…to who? Nny. Nny, that little shit. He separated us. Made us easier to control. Arguing with each other meant we wouldn't concentrate on him so much…no free will. No such thing! At least I've got that here…to an extent._

There was no stopping the memories now. The whole time spent in the other reality ("fucking Earth") sped past like a movie watched on fast forward. Nny, the Wall Monster, countless suicide attempts by his host, when his host _wasn't_ trying to commit suicide, _fucking Nailbunny_, that nice neighbour boy with the creepy teddy bear, not being a refrigerator, Devi, the moon, the stars, watching small children drop their ice-creams, Happy Noodle Boy for Christ's sake, the collapse, the reclaim. Only, they weren't showed in 3-D anymore. Nothing could be identified; the images played at too high a speed. But they had been remembered and would be there waiting should they need to be remembered again. Something that hadn't returned, however, was the memory of a name, which was probably the most sorely missed. When the show of sorts had ended, it was almost disheartening to realize that's all they were; memories. Reality was now the Void.

How long had that speck been there in the distance? Through the dramas of remembering a whole lifetime, it had not been noticed sooner. It was the only inconsistent thing in the great span of the void; just a small, light-coloured speck. It seemed that the laws of light had no meaning in this place.

_Am I moving?_

As if the thought had in fact stimulated movement, the dot began to grow rapidly, and it was undoubtedly clear that the distance between them was decreasing, rather than the object simply gaining in size. The features became more defined on the being as it drew closer. Short arms and legs protruded from a figureless body, and the colour a consistent white. It didn't need to get any closer to be recognized; there are more effective senses than sight. As the being was propelled forward by an unknown force, the tall shape of a chef's hat was visible atop a perfectly rounded head. The first glimpses of black paint markings, breaking the uniform white figure, accompanied shortly after. The being only stopped advancing until it was possible to reach out and touch it with an identically shaped white hand, attached to an identically shaped white body. It didn't even seem remarkable that a body had suddenly materialized.

_My name is Psychodoughboy._


	2. Found

"Fuck."

"You sound surprised, D-boy."

His nickname felt comforting, even if it was spoken by that shit, Mr. Eff. But it wasn't something to complain about right now. No, there would be plenty of time to argue later, if eternity _was_ to be spent in the Void. Right now, the Styrofoam pastry display standing before him might hold valuable information on the current situation. It was best to play it safe for now.

_Am I surprised? I figured that hole must have been in here __somewhere__ if I was._

_Still..._

"I had hoped I wouldn't be seeing you again." The words dripped with detest.

"D-boy, I'm hurt." Sarcasm was always one of their shared strengths.

"Holes in you, Fuck."

_So much for playing it safe._

A smirk played across Eff's face, the black paint gliding over the Styrofoam. "Aren't you pleased to see me? This Void does get lonely quite quickly, wouldn't you agree?"

D-boy made a short noise of protest. It was incredible how easily Eff could annoy him; he knew exactly what, and _how, _to say something to infuriate the other. But that was probably should have been expected, after all they had been together since their creation; it was their sole purpose to quarrel. Destruction was their greatest skill, and all too often they turned it on each other instead of Nny. That was hardly avoidable however, with such opposing desires.

_Eff betrayed our Master._

_We were supposed to push Nny so far into insanity that he'd break like the fucking defective machine he is. Allow us to be reunited with our Master, setting him free from his prison behind the wall. _

It was then that the significance of the first memory became apparent, and an icy chill trickled the length of D-boy's Styrofoam body.

It was hard to say whether he really felt it or whether it was just subconscious. Did Voices even have the capacity to _feel_, or was it just a memory of something Johnny had felt?

_Stop existing. It would have been so beautiful. But Eff wasn't as loyal, oh no. He had his own objective; to become Real. Holes in __that__. Did he have more free will than me? Or was I too weak? No...no...I __wanted__ to...to obey my Master. He tried to ruin it for me, the little shit. But in the end..._

_Could this be...?_

"Something on your mind?" Eff's voice cut sharply through the other's musings.

_What?_

"You're quiet, even for you. I half expected you to start our old arguments from where we left off." He sounded sincere for once.

"How shallow of you." The words were spat out.

Old habits die hard. But the steady undercurrent of a much more important matter was hard to ignore for long, regardless of the _need_ to argue.

"I can imagine what's got you so worked up." Eff had chosen not to retaliate, although with an attention span as short as his, it was likely he had already forgotten it. Such was his nature; he was the Voice of Insanity and created for the very purpose of encouraging it within Johnny. His method of destruction. Eff was, in a word, manic. Not only was his hyperactivity something which D-boy despised, it was also his desire to be Real; exist on his own without being a slave to their Master. The very idea of wanting such a thing was too foreign for D-boy to comprehend who simply wanted to stop Being altogether.

D-boy turned his attention back to Eff.

"I hardly doubt you have half the concentration required for that." The spiteful reply was instantaneous; it was almost second nature to disagree with Eff. Even if it was only for the sake of it.

"Holes in you. I know, _Psychodoughboy_, because I've been thinking the same thing. _Why are we here_?"

D-boy glared at the use of his full name, it was only ever used to undermine him or add weight to a statement against him. But nonetheless, Eff was right, in a rare moment of attentiveness. D-boy wouldn't admit it though. That would just be another victory for the other.

"Well, _Mr. Fuck_, why do you suppose we're here?"

Eff picked at a piece of paint flaking off his hand and answered indifferently, "Probably because of you."

D-boy glared, the whirlpools of his eyes barely visible, and took a step back, not liking the proximity of himself to Eff. Just because he couldn't be completely rid of him, that didn't mean he had to be near him. When it came down to it, D-boy would choose loneliness compared to Eff's company, although any feeling was limited as a Figment trapped in a pastry display.

"Blaming me is growing old, Eff." It struck D-boy as being rather civilised for him. Before, this discussion would have not got any further as it would have turned into full out war between them. However, the circumstances called for some tolerance to learn the necessary answers, and that meant standing whatever shit Eff threw at him. If he was willing to argue, it could suggest that he didn't need any additional information. Perhaps he had, by what could only be a sheer miracle, figured this all out. D-boy snickered mentally at such a thought.

"You're always so defensive," Eff observed, "however, I'm being sincere. Think about it. As much as I tried, you were the one who succeeded; you freed your Master."

"Our Master." D-boy corrected, but Eff chose to ignore it, which the other took to being out of stubbornness.

"My point is, you got what you wanted."

_Could this be...?_

_..._

_Not Being?_

_It's a possibility_

_What isn't here?_

_But this isn't what I wanted_

_I wanted to stop existing, be nothing. _

_Surely this is something..._

"I take your silence to understand you're taking me seriously."

"So presumptuous." D-boy muttered half to himself, but it was just loud enough for the other to overhear.

"Holes in you, Psycho. Why do you always have to hide yourself under all this shit?"

"Like you don't."

_Since when has __he__ ever cared about honesty between us?_

"We're _free_, D-boy. Or a form of it at least. We aren't bound to our Master anymore, can you not understand that? We don't have to conform to his commands anymore, no more being the Voice of Despair or Insanity. Fuck that! Fucking holes in that!"

D-boy turned his back on the other, staring into the Void beneath his feet. It dawned on him that it was most disconcerting to be apparently floating, but like everything else here, it didn't feel unnatural. "We can't go against Design, Eff. We were _created_ to be that way. I was meant to be depressive and you were meant to be manic, that's something you can't unlearn. You're just fooling yourself and you're too blind to notice."

D-boy smiled triumphantly. Their Master had created them to be destructive, both in their own ways. They couldn't change their nature, no matter how hard they tried or lied to themselves, underneath the façade they would be always the same. Eff was ignorant to think otherwise as far as he was concerned. They were meant to loathe each other; by conflicting with one another, it would drive Nny deeper into insanity and free their Master. It was their whole purpose of existence. Eff's futile determination was almost enough to evoke pity from the other, but D-boy was far too proud for such a thing and reasoned Eff should know better.

Eff scowled.

"You're wrong, Psycho. We _can_ learn. We can start again- wash away all the shit from before. Be who_ we _want to be, not what someone else chose for us. Don't you see?"

"You're rushing ahead so recklessly you aren't thinking. Have you actually thought that we might be here forever? It's not what either of us wanted. I wanted to stop Being and you yearned to be Real. This is neither. It's like a-"

"-_compromise_." Eff finished.

"Exactly. What you speak of is something done when your dream of being Real has been achieved." D-boy threw over his shoulder, "But I find it hard to believe that will ever happen."

_Being civil can only last so long._

_I have strong suspicions this place has influences on our behaviour_

_Unless there's some truth to what Eff says. Maybe the control our Master had on us has been severed, and we can have the chance to be who we want to be. Supposing this is the case, whatever personalities he infused with would fade along with the control. We would become blank canvases._

_But... what I am now is all that I know. _

_I don't know __how__ to be anything different. _

_It's still too flawed to-_

"-and even then you wont fucking admit it!" Eff had been shouting something at him throughout this internal contemplation, and D-boy had only just become aware of his noise. He sighed and turned to face the other.

"Admit what, Fuck?"

He spoke as if he found this all quite tiresome and gave the impression that Eff was a behaving like a spoilt, naive child.

Knowing one's weaknesses worked both ways.

"_I_ understand more about this situation than _you_ do! You were the one who believed in something so _stupidly_ you forgot about everything else! Did you even stop to think you'd get what you want, that our "master" would keep his promise by taking back your existence? Face it, you fucked up. That is what you wont admit!" Eff screamed, his voice squeaking unnaturally high due to being made of styrofoam.

"Fucking holes in you, Eff! Fucking holes in _everything_! I knew _exactly_ what i was doing- exactly! You ended up here too, you hypocritical shit!"

_this is all __wrong_

_it wasn't meant to be like this!_

_I was supposed to __stop__ existing, not end up in this fucked up limbo! It's even __worse__ than being Real._

_i'm not sure of anything anymore..._

_if i'm right_

_if that hole's right..._

_i don't want to be here_

D-boy hadn't even realised he was holding his head in the palms of his hands, eyes tightly shut, until Eff had placed a hand on his shoulder. Hadn't even heard him come near.

"Don't fucking _touch me_!" D-boy screamed, thrashing his shoulder away and beating Eff's hand from him in the same movement, "It's all your fault!"

He buried his head in his hands again, regardless of the fact he was unable to cry on account of being made of styrofoam.

Eff stood motionless, observing the other.

This was too much to handle. At least with Nny, he had a purpose, knew what to do. Here, everything was so overwhelming and uncertain. It wasn't meant to be like this. His Master, the only person he was loyal to,_ trusted_, had deceived him. Fuck, used him. He had got what he wanted, through D-boy, who had then been discarded here, no longer needed. His master had_ no intention _of fulfilling his side of the bargain, and it was all so fucking obvious. The sad, sorry truth made him ache and feel hollow.

_I hate myself._

"D-boy..." 

_I was so naive._

"Shut up!"

"Just listen-"

_I should have known_

"Fuck you, Eff!

_Should never have trusted_

"I-"

"No! I don't want to hear it Fuck. Mock me all you want, I'm through with this shit."

Eff tore D-boy's hands away from his face, and held his wrists firmly as the other struggled desperately to be free from his touch. After realising his attempts at dislodging Eff's grip were hopeless, D-boy allowed his arms to fall limply to his side in defeat. This was the first instance of contact between them that had not been out of hate.

"Look. I don't want to mock you, you can believe that or not. Now isn't the time."

A whimper escaped D-boy's mouth and he tried pathetically to break away once more, to no avail.

Eff stared unfazed, the other not meeting his gaze, "You aren't the only one who doesn't want to be here, or did you even think about that? Contrary to what you may believe, I'm really not finding this situation amusing."

A quick glace upwards, but D-boy found his painted on boots were much easier to look at.

"This isn't going to be something you want to hear, but if we stand _any_ chance of understanding this situation, we're going to have to co-operate." After no protest from D-boy, Eff continued, a subtle sympathetic tone interlacing with his newfound take-charge sternness. D-boy didn't feel that had ever been there before, but then again, neither had the position to use it. "If you just tell me what you know, maybe we can figure something out."

The hold on D-boy was released, who proceeded to snatch his arms away, detesting the fact he had allowed himself to be touched for so long.

He rubbed the places where Eff had gripped his wrists, still feeling the contact.

He was silent for a moment.

"I...we...we were here before. I remember Before. I think this was where we were created, but it was where we were before Nny at any rate."

It was the first time either of them had mentioned his name aloud, and judging from Eff's expression, he also detested Johnny C as much as ever. At least that was something they had in common.

D-boy continued, "You were with me here. You were always with me, created together but separated by Nny to try and control us more."

_He's only constant I've ever had_

_..._

_What made me think that?_

"No...No, we weren't created together D-boy." Eff was shot a doubtful glance, "I'm telling the truth. Lying to you now would not get me anywhere in here. You were the first to be created, I was created, in Johnny's life, a few years later. Don't you remember?"

D-boy shook his head, "I don't remember a lot about the Beginning. But how can I trust you? We've lied to each other for so long..."

Eff grinned, despite the situation.

"It's quite sad really, isn't it? But in here, telling the truth is more useful to me. Allow me to explain. You were created first, I followed later. Nny then separated us and we were infused with these fucking pastry display stands as Voices. After you..." It was still hard to admit defeat, "After you succeeded, our Master reclaimed us, destroyed our physical containers. If your promise had been kept, we should have also been destroyed. We would have stopped existing. Obviously, that's the part which has fucked up."

_So Eff did know more than I did_

_if I can trust what he's saying, that is._

"Well Psycho, we're now back where we started." He seemed genuinely pleased with himself, after all, it was rare Eff ever paid attention long enough to care about anything. This was certainly a notable achievement on his part. "The beginning is the end, and all that rot."

D-boy smirked, "So, then Fuck. Now what?"


	3. Change

Eff shot a glance at D-boy; humour coming from him was rare, even more so given the current situation.

"I've done my part," Eff answered nonchalantly. "Besides, it's your fault that we're here in the first place, you fix it."

"_Fuck you_, Eff! Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

"I ruin everything? Isn't this mess entirely _your_ fault? I was trying to fix things for us Before, but you fucked that up. I can't see how you can accuse anyone of ruining anything."

_he's __lying__ to me_

_how dare__ he fucking lie to me- after all that shit about being honest he fed me._

_he didn't want to fix it for __us__; he just wanted to get his own way_

_get what __he__ wanted_

_i wont be naive again. not after..._

"I know you're lying, Fuck. It's _pathetic _how far you'll go to try and manipulate me. Whatever control you had Before has been lost and now you're _desperate_ to get some of it back, using me in the process. Well holes in that Eff, I control me. I wont _ever_ let anyone use me how our Master did. This_ isn't _my fault, we both know it isn't. I didn't want this. But blaming me is much easier to do, isn't it? It's just another excuse to go on hating me."

D-boy stood shaking with rage. At least that was something he could actually feel, as opposed to a memory of an emotion. But feeling anything was another painful reminder he hadn't stopped Being, even if this factor had been forgotten in the heat of the argument.

"Quite finished?" D-boy opened his mouth to retaliate, but Eff interrupted before he had the chance. "Once again, D-boy, you're only half right. I _did_ want control Before, I longed to do what I wanted. I wanted to be free, make toast whenever I wanted! But I don't want to control you. I know what it feels like just as much as you do, and slavery is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Not even _you_. I'm through with being controlled."

The anger dissolved into the surrounding nothingness with surprising ease.

To them, anger just didn't do that, had _never_ done that. Blind fury at each other had often bubbled underneath the surface for days after an exceptionally fierce argument. It couldn't have been healthy, but that defied the point of being destructive. When infrequent moments of contemplation were available, D-boy often wondered if the negativity was _rotting_ his insides. He imagined it to resemble sticky black tar, infecting his Styrofoam body, coursing through non-existent veins. It was in his system. It was a _disease_, and it had developed past any chance of curing it. That is, if there _was _a cure. Other times, when depression accompanied these thoughts, D-boy considered ways to let the pollution out, drain it all away. But then, that would mean being hollow inside, openly inviting things potentially worse to inhabit the empty space. This lead D-boy to the conclusion that he was better off this way, and as far as he was concerned, the depression encouraged the essential sickness.

_I'm sick_

Eff was humming.

Had it even occurred to him that the argument was over before it had begun? It seemed unlikely he was that attentive. But for D-boy, it was all too obvious. True, they didn't always argue, but in a situation like this, it was almost expected of them.

"We aren't so different, you know? You and me."

D-boy snapped out of his trance.

_What made him come out with that?_

"After you strip away all the layers and masks and shit and lies...we aren't so different."

_I'm not the same as him_

_the thought of such a thing..._

_this.._

_must be..._

_a way of undermining me_

"Think about it. We know each other more than anyone else does, we've been through exactly the same. I understand you more than you understand yourself. This isn't something to be used against you D-boy, it's just an observation." Eff pulled a face which bordered on being serious, something that didn't exactly look appropriate for his personality.

D-boy's expression was dubious, raising a painted eyebrow at the other, who had started humming again- off-key by the sound of it. It was only natural to feel suspicious, Eff was _never_ so observant. But his abnormal behaviour caused him to again consider if what Eff had said previously held truth in it after all. Was their Master's control over them _really_ diminishing? He barely had any control over the other Before, explaining why Eff's change in personality was more pronounced, and D-boy was almost exactly the same down to his unbreakable devotion. Was this hope? Being hopeful wasn't something D-boy was accustomed to though, and refused to fully believe it until there was substantial evidence to either prove or disprove the current theory. Being hopeful only meant a greater sense of disappointment when it all went wrong, he had learnt that long ago. The most recurring feeling of hope was whenever Nny had felt depressed, and there was a chance he'd finally do away with himself. Only Nailbunny or Mr. Eff would talk him out of it, each for their separate reasons. Nailbunny, being the Voice of Sanity wanted to truly help Nny, while Eff, the selfish fuck, just needed him alive that bit longer to become Real.

D-boy half smiled, but he wasn't happy.

"I'll never understand you."

The statement was so quiet it was barely more than a sigh.

"Can I ask why?" It was surprising Eff had actually heard it over his incessant humming. To anyone else, it would have appeared Eff was only vaguely interested, his whole being playing up to that belief. D-boy knew otherwise; anything even remotely close to personal information was precious ammunition for future arguments. But to trust Eff to not use it against him? Reveal his own weaknesses? It was practically suicidal.

D-boy snickered mentally.

"Every time I think I've figured you out, you'll surprise me with something new. Then I realise I'm right back at the beginning again."

A satisfied smirk was plastered across Eff's face.

_I know he does it on purpose_

_so I can't tell what he's going to do_

_unpredictable._

_he can read me like a book. I don't change._

_  
I'm far too __stubborn__._

"Well I am supposed to be the manic side of things." Eff remarked, that ridiculous grin firmly stuck on his face.

"We aren't the same, Eff. We'll never be the same."

"I know."

"But you said- "

"I said we were _similar_. We could never be the same." It felt as if there were more weight to those words than Eff wanted to reveal. Or he even _realised_.

D-boy let out a long sigh for no particular reason. Forever suddenly seemed too long to stay in the Void. He didn't want to be here, this was so close to not existing, but equally as close to existing. It was tormenting, and the whole place was just mocking him. It was holding his desire right in front of him, just out of reach, and there was no way to ever get closer to it.

"How did you..." _find me?_

"Find you?"

_Did I say it out loud? _Nevertheless, D-boy answered him with a nod.

"I'll always find you. _Always_. We're drawn to each other because we once shared the same existence. We were meant to be together D-boy, we can't function without each other."

_Two halves of a whole._

"You aren't...lying to me?"

"I told you before; lying here wouldn't get me anywhere."

_I still can't trust him_

_not until I know for certain._

_"I'll always find you."_

_..._

_..._

_"Always."_

"But we hate each other, how can we possibly need someone so destructive? I know I need my own destruction but that's different."

"I don't hate you, Psycho."

"I knew you were lying. As naive as I am, there's only so much shit you can get me to believe."

_i knew it. i knew it i knew it._

_fuck, i almost believed everything he said_

_he nearly had me_

_i know what he's doing. _

_He's saying what i want to hear._

_I want to believe him, I want -need- what he says to be true. This really would be so much easier if we didn't lie to each other. I can see the changes in myself now. Before, I would have never even considered believing Eff, I automatically took whatever he told me to be some form of manipulation. But now...now...I actively want to believe whatever he tells me. I need it. Reassurance. Answers._

"Why couldn't you..." D-boy stared into the distant Void, refusing to look at the other. "...Why couldn't you just let me_ believe _you? I _need_ this Eff. Even if it is all just lies and ulterior motives, it's something."

Eff frowned, although it wasn't down to anger or irritation.

"I meant it D-boy, I don't hate you. The more our Master's control on us weakens, the more I'm beginning to feel _indifferent _about you."

Something crawled inside D-boy, and he felt sickeningly hollow. Even for a piece of Styrofoam.

_Indifferent?_

_Fucking __indifferent__!?_

_That's __worse__ than hate. At least hate was something I could __understand__. I knew how to deal with that. It's been there since our creation._

_I don't know of anything different that could exist between us._

D-boy strode over towards the other, purposefully. "Then I'll make you hate me all over again. I wont let you do this to me Eff."

The other stood his ground, and clenched his fists in frustration, "You're so _narrow-minded_, have you even considered the opposite solution? That we could actually _like_ each other?"

"Of course I fucking haven't! We're _meant_ to _hate _each other! Created for that very purpose. I- You- You're the only constant I've ever had- and I've got no intention of letting that go!"

_Shit. Fucking shit! I didn't mean to say that. Not out loud._

Eff stood for a moment, the words chasing themselves around like an echo. An odd expression formed on his face; it was a mixture of perplexed amusement, and what could only be described as fear. It was understandable though, intimacy and concern for one another was something unheard of between them. D-boy wasn't sure which was worse as a reaction to his outburst.

"I didn't mean-"

"Don't talk to me." Eff's voice was flat and lacked any hint of what was going through his mind.

D-boy had knocked him off his guard, but it was so unlike Eff, it was frightening. He reached towards the other with a hand gloved with black paint, in an attempt to perhaps poke him back to his normal self.

"Eff, I-"

"Don't touch me," Eff hissed, and recoiled from D-boy's outstretched hand. They had both voiced that phrase now, and it conjured up the recent memory of Eff's statement about them being similar. However, although D-boy didn't mind contact and had said it simply out of rage, Eff despised any touch whatsoever. The older of the two was unsure why, but perhaps Eff saw it as his way of becoming hollow, compared to D-boy's method of losing his identity. Being empty was something they both feared, but for entirely different reasons.

Eff believed that feeling was closely linked to being Real, as all Real things feel. But if he was hollow inside, he would not be fully Real. D-boy's fear of emptiness stemmed from the fact that an empty existence would be far worse than a full one. It was neither one nor the other, just a cruel midpoint, much like the Void he was currently in.

Had D-boy been the sort to apologise, his chance to do so had arrived and passed, without him even considering doing such a thing.

"I do hope you two are enjoying yourselves. From the looks on your faces though, I presume you aren't."

Both pastry display stands whipped round and followed the voice's direction to locate its owner.

Eff was the first to do so and his eyes widened with bewilderment.


	4. Purpose

"Surely you can manage a better welcome than that?" The figure asked in feigned disappointment, then shrugged. "Ah well."

_Who...?_

D-boy cast a questioning glance over towards Eff, who returned it, equally confused. When he resumed his attention back to the stranger, a light illuminating the being's right side caught his eye. The elder of the two figments craned his neck as best he could to get a better view. A rectangular hole, resembling that of a doorway had materialised in the Void, and looked as if it was a passageway from their current dimension to another. D-boy moved back to his original position and the doorway was hidden again, giving it the appearance of being two-dimensional.

Eff received a nudge in the ribs by D-boy's elbow. It wasn't necessary, Eff had already noticed it for himself and was still staring goggle-eyed at it.

_I wonder how he's managing to restrain himself from hurling himself through it_

_Heh, maybe I should push him through and get rid of him._

D-boy held back a grin trying to force itself upon him.

"You two are both unusually quiet," the figure hissed observedly.

_Eff said I was quiet earlier._

_...what?_

The thought startled him; it was trivial, and yet a part of him had chosen to remember it.

"I _had_ been anticipating a bombardment of questions. Not that I'm complaining, I assure you. This makes my job that much easier."

It was Eff who took command.

"What, exactly, _is_ your job?" He eyed the stranger suspiciously, who now advanced upon them, his shape becoming clearer.

The first thing that was the most noticeable was the being's apparent inhuman form, as it came to a halt a few feet away from the Figments. A pair of ram-like horns were mounted on a drawn, surreal face. The large, blank eyes and lack of a nose gave the creature's head the appearance of a skull. Protruding shoulders and an abnormally thin physique were covered by a cloak of sorts, which draped down to conceal the rest of the figure's body, the ends forming into dark tendrils. D-boy watched mesmerised as the wisps of cloak continuously broke away and dissipated, like fire and smoke at the same time. Compared to the doughboys, the being loomed over them ominously, and the elder Figment estimated it to be around eight feet in height.

"My job? Why, I'm the Devil." The being announced, then added as an afterthought, "Though I prefer my real name; Senór Diablo."

_The __Devil__? _

_Satan__?_

_It can't be..._

_possible__._

_This place...everything. I don't know what's certain anymore._

_Though, right now, I don't really have a choice about believing him or not..._

"What...do you want with _us_?" D-boy forced his to voice work.

"You'll both be pleased to know that it's my responsibility to sort your little mess out." Satan grinned, making no effort to hide the fact he was greatly amused by the situation. Eff scowled, and shot D-boy a look which clearly meant this "mess" was completely his fault. The other glared back at him defiantly. They would have continued to try and outstare each other had Satan not addressed them both with an impatient "ahem".

Satan folded his arms behind his back and asked casually, the hiss constant in his voice, "Now, before I reveal everything, is there anywhere specific you would like me to start? Fortunately for you, I am in a good mood as a bus of nuns has driven into a ravine."

_...a ravine?_

D-boy cursed himself for thinking something worthy of Eff. That had to be rectified.

"Why is it _your_ responsibility and not, say, God's?"

The Devil let out an indignant snort. "_Please_, that fat little lawn gnome? He hasn't lifted a finger since creating that shithole of a universe. It still amazes me how he managed to do something so productive in the first place. Nevertheless Psychodoughboy, an excellent question. It's just like you to be so sharp."

This time, it was Eff's turn to snort bitterly.

"Don't worry Mr. Fuck, you have your moments." Eff was not consoled. "It is my duty, because contrary to what you both believe, I am your Master."

_...the hell? - heh._

_That doesn't make sense._

_Is he lying to me - __us__?_

_There's no way-_

"Let me explain. Because even though it's most entertaining to watch you desperately figure that bombshell out, I have neither the time nor patience to wait for you to do so on your own." Satan paused thoughtfully, "I suppose I should start at the very beginning."

"That might help." Eff muttered under his breath and scuffed the non-existent ground with his painted-on boot. D-boy jabbed Eff in the area where his ribs would have been situated. Evenheshould have realised it was unwise to provoke the Devil. Besides, he promised them answers and D-boy was not going to let that little _shit_ ruin it for him, not when they were so close. However to much relief, Satan chose to ignore the remark, as the suggestion he had not heard it was foolish.

_Perhaps nuns should die more often..._

_Fuck, if __anything__ puts Satan in a good mood, it should happen more often._

"I'm sure you both have realised this is not your first time in Nowhere?" D-boy assumed Nowhere was the name Satan had given the Void they were in. However, he gave no answer one way or the other. Eff followed his lead, deciding it was probably best that he didn't carry out his urge to kick Satan in the shin. "In any case, Nowhere was where you were created. Think of it as a convenient storage space; I imagine God got distracted and forgot about it, it would hardly surprise me. Yes, well. Psychodoughboy, you were the first of my creations, and the first Voice I bestowed upon Nny. I _had_ hoped you would be strong enough by yourself to bring Nny to suicide, however I miscalculated and sought to make amends immediately. This is where _you_ come in, Mr. Fuck."

"Yay!"

Eff squealed with delight at his entrance and listened, enraptured. _How vain..._

Something was still playing on D-boy's mind. Satan had said he wasn't _strong enough _alone and this irritated him; he should not have had to rely on Eff's help. Given time, he would have been able to do it himself. Fuck, it was only Eff's betrayal that had stopped him before. D-boy subconsciously glanced over towards the other, who was still grinning stupidly at the Devil, and sighed for himself.

The Devil continued with his explanation. "Because Nny needed more than Pyschodoughboy's despair to push him over the proverbial edge, you Mr. Fuck, were bestowed the Voice of Insanity, in an attempt to encourage it within Nny. Together you were to work towards your purpose, only I didn't count on one of you having your own objective."

Eff lowered his gaze guiltily, the smile fading from his face. When he spoke, his voice was filled with detest, "It wasn't _our_ purpose, it was yours. Created for the very purposed of being used. Of course, you wouldn't have any idea how it feels to know that. I tried to break free from the Wall Mons- _your_- control, tried to become Real so I could live for me and make my own purpose."

D-boy could do nothing but watch the horror unfolding before him. Eff was going to ruin it for him.

Satan seemed only mildly surprised at Eff's outburst, "Still bitter I see. If you hate someone, Mr. Fuck, you have to take the consequences. But seeing as I'm Senór Diablo, I don't think that will be happening any time soon. However, despite your evident Pinocchio complex, the task was completed with commendable improvisation. Nny accidently shot himself in the head with that Robo-Arm, which allowed the monstrosity you believed to be your master to break free."

There was so much to take in, yet the only thing D-boy could concentrate on was how he had misplaced his loyalty. Eff was sure to have something to say about that.

_I hate myself._

_...it's humiliating._

D-boy pulled himself out of self-pity long enough to ask another question.

"Why did you...make us believe the Wall Monster was our master?"

The query caused Satan to grin with approval, "My, aren't we the bright one? It was so you were _willing_ for it to destroy you, stop your existence. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

The question was rhetorical, and the Devil's pause allowed D-boy to steal a glance at the other to see his reaction. D-boy's mouth twitched, desperately trying to form a smirk; Eff looked completely overwhelmed. He wasn't able to concentrate for so long on _anything_, never mind something as complex as this.

"If you wanted your "master" to be free from the wall, it could reclaim you," Satan continued, "This is exactly what I wanted you to do Psychodoughboy, or hasn't it _dawned_ on you yet? You see, the Wall Monster was the physical collection of waste created by human negitivity. A _residue_ of the very acts themselves. If only they could _see _they were wading around in their own filth. But what has this got to do with _you_? You were to push Nny into killing himself, allowing the Wall Monster to escape his prison. I have already explained this to the boy himself, and I do_ hate _repeating myself. Yet it has to be done, unfortunately for me."

_He met Nny?_

_It didn't even occur to me that after he shot himself he'd go to hell_

_understandable really._

"First I should explain more about your supposed "master", before I explain _your _roles in all of this. It will make it far easier to understand, I'm sure." Satan gestured dramatically to get the desired "prophetical" effect he was aiming for, "The Wall Monster isn't the only waste, it forms and accumulates like any other and understandably, it needs to be dealt with. So, specially cleared out "cells" are formed to contain the negativity, one such cell being Johnny's basement wall. But when it grows too large to accommodate it's prison, it must be flushed out and disposed of. Following so far Psychodoughboy? I daresay Eff is, and you should perhaps summarize this to him later."

"Hey! I'm listening!" Eff squeaked, offended, his voice unnaturally high due to being made of Styrofoam.

D-boy finally allowed himself to snicker. It felt good.

The Devil surveyed them both indifferently, "My most _profound_ apologies."

Eff was not amused and resorted to sulking.

"Where was I? Ah yes. The waste must be flushed out, which means someone must have the duty of doing so. I would like to point out the task of appointing such a person is out of my hands, although by choosing Nny, your job was half-done anyway. Doesn't that cheer you up? The fact that Nny had found a way to continue to strengthen the barrier containing the waste was a minor setback, but it merely prolonged the inevitable. After he accidentally killed himself, the Wall Monster broke free, and "reclaimed" you as you so desired Psychodoughboy. Eff, well, he didn't have much of a choice on the matter really, and his dream of ever becoming Real was ended. Then the entire universe collapsed, taking the waste with it, mission accomplished so to speak. You can imagine, I'm sure, that it would not be healthy to have so much negativity stored like that, just waiting to destroy everything, so we must destroy it first. After that's done, the universe is rebooted from a backup disk, or something to a similar effect. Is this all becoming clear to you?"

_As clear as it'll ever be..._

_This...it's so hard to understand_

_especially after what i've believed for so long turns out to be all a lie._

Eff returned from his sulk. "What about Nny? What happened to him?"

Satan waved his hand apathetically, "Rebooted along with his universe, though what happens to him now is no longer my concern."

Eff contemplated this for a moment, "So then, why are we here?"

"There's hope for you yet, Mr. Fuck. It was_ always _my intention to destroy you both, right from the beginning. After all, you were manifestations of the very negativity which needed to be flushed. It didn't bode well for two such highly destructive figments be let loose. No, you needed to be washed away too. But then, rather than have you both erased like the waste, I had you rebooted here. I'm not quite through with you both just yet."


	5. Study

_so he wants to manipulate us again?_

_Well if he wants us to be the Voices of another Flusher, holes in that!_

_I wont be used anymore._

D-boy knew that his desire of not existing was impossible to attain; his faith was placed in something false. It had been his only way out and it was a lie, something fabricated to keep him loyal until he had completed his purpose. It made his chest ache. But he still couldn't tell if it was his own aching, and not an automatic feeling. He was _supposed_ to feel it as the reaction accompanied the emotion, just like people are _supposed_ to cry when they are unhappy. It was the only way of explaining it to himself with words, although it made far much more sense without them. The emotions were real, that was certain. But how could D-boy's _chest _ache when it was just styrofoam? What seemed like forever ago, back when they were both with Nny, D-boy would have never contemplated such things. They were trivial and were no use for his ultimate purpose. Feelings were just distractions and he couldn't afford to be preoccupied with such things when his existance was only temporary.

At least _that_ was not a problem anymore; D-boy had an eternity to ponder over, well, anything he wanted. Something told him this wasn't unbearable, and would in fact, be quite pleasant. Unless of course Satan's plan interferred with this, bringing the former Voice back to the present situation.

Senór Diablo had been observing them for some time, each lost in their own thoughts. However, he eventually reached the conclusion that it would be most unfair of him to keep them in suspense for too long. Besides, there was no rest for the wicked and he hadn't the time to stand about. Satan sighed and gave another short "ahem", though it was aimed solely at Eff, as D-boy had ended his internal conflicts for now and was now concentrating firmly upon him. Eff shook his head, as if to try and free himself from his thoughts. It was the younger one's turn to catch a glance at the other, and was surprised to see how focussed he looked.No, it made _sense_. D-boy had _always_ calculated his moves, thought things through. He had this figured out surely, Psycho will know what to do. It bothered him that he, Eff, was now relying on that shit to get them out of this mess. Even after it was the very same person who had got them into it.

It was ironic really.

D-boy spoke, causing Eff to jump. "You can probably guess what I'm about to ask but...what do you plan on doing with us?"

_he can't make us voices again_

_he fucking __cant__. I wont - I wont let him do this to me again._

_but..._

_what other use is there?_

D-boy clenched his fists defensively, his eyes reduced to thin slits of paint.

"What's that look for Pyschodoughboy?" D-boy hissed, but Satan paid no attention, "You're so predictable. You're assuming I'm going to dump you on some poor human as Voices again, correct? However, we've already taken care of the next flusher and you wont be needed I can assure you."

_then what...?_

Satan appeared to be thinking of how to phrase his next statement, while the styrofoam Figments waited impatiently, eyes wide with disbelief. Their reservations about the prospect of being parasites again were laid to rest. Even though they knew next to nothing of the Devil's scheme, they both jumped blindingly to their own conclusions, after all, anything was better than being Voices. One hoped this meant it was all over, their existance would soon terminate and there would be _true _beautiful nothingness. The other interpretted the announcement as a positive sign being Real was a breath away, and life was _so close _to beginning. If either of them cared, they might have noticed how their dreams of beginning and ending were not so different, despite their joint protests. But both Eff and D-boy only cared for themselves and their own selfish desires, and so the concept remained unnoticed. Though, to find they were remotely alike, would have been horrifying.

_I don't like this._

_For all I know, there IS something worse than being a Figment. _D-boy frowned and looked over at the other, for reassurance if anything. It didn't matter from what source it came from, he just needed to know that things weren't going to be the same as before, that he wasn't going to be used again. D-boy tried in vain not to need consolation from Eff, but regardless of being enemies, he couldn't deny they'd always been together. Through everything, they had both experienced it and because of that, understood each other to an extent - not that they both would have admitted such a thing to the other. However, any prospect of being reassured by Eff was hopeless; he was still staring intently at the towering figure before them. The other's gaze drifted to the younger Figment's expression, which was that of sheer naive faith, eyes wanting - needing. Did he really want to be Real _that_ much? D-boy would've given anything to stop existing; he wanted nothing else and worked relentlessly towards his goal. But with Eff...it was something more. It was almost with desperation he stared up at Senór Diablo, as if this was his final effort and if that failed, he was ready to give up. The elder Figment wanted to smirk and revel in this minor victory, but something wasn't allowing him to do so.

_Pity._

But pity had no place here, D-boy was just as desperate, and should be more worried about his own wellbeing. Because, if Eff _did_ somehow miraculously achieve his goal through Satan's plan, it could only mean his own was impossible to attain once more. D-boy sighed for them both. At least he realised they were both jumping to conclusions, making meaning out of nothing and anything. Satan had only mentioned they were not to become Voices of a flusher again, and already they were both presuming their dreams were about to be reality. Pyscho knew he had the advantage of knowing this beforehand, and so would not be as disappointed when this is all came crashing down around them. That was not the way the Devil worked. Only Eff's better judgement, if he possessed any to start with, had been clouded by his own recklessness and would only have himself to blame at the end of it all.

Satan let out a fake yawn, as an indication he was now ready to reveal his plan. D-boy felt himself tense, not even slightly considering the reality of such a thing, while Eff leaned forwards eagerly. _Stupid_.

"I'm assuming I now have your undivided attention?"

D-boy nodded warily, while Eff answered with an excited, "yep!"

"You'll both be pleased to know that the end of my small experiment results in you both getting what you most desire. Kind of like a prize for participating, really." Satan announced it as if it were something trivial and offhand, but both he and the Figments knew it meant something much more. Eff was grinning right across his stupid face, as D-boy glanced between him and Satan in pure disbelief. But before he had time to contemplate the sincerity, the Devil spoke again.

"Of course, for me to promise such a thing, your task will not be easy or will it be over quickly. No, this is going to take time for us to monitor you and aquire all the necessary information. I'll explain; we currently have a theory which we'd like to test. It's nothing too spectacular, it just makes our job easier - and by 'our' I mean myself and those that are behind the Flusher system. You see, the current way of dealing with the negative waste is an understandably laborious task, and we simply don't have the resources to keep up with the amount of accumulating filth. As you're probably aware, each Flusher is given a Figment to try and speed up the process of releasing it, and in this case you are unique as you were fragmented into two. Thing being because Johnny was proving too difficult to pursuade into releasing the 'Wall Monster' with just one, as I have explained earlier."

The Devil needlessly brushed down his robe, allowing a pause in which Eff and D-boy could absorb what he'd said.

He then continued, sounding as if explaining it all was tiresome, "However, perhaps because of this separation, one of you seemed to gain more and more self control when Johnny began to lean towards "their side". Mr. Fuck, are you aware that no other figment has ever wanted their own purpose? Even Pyschodougboy wanted nothing more than to serve his master and fullfil the purpose we bestowed upon him."

Eff shook his head, and the fact that he felt quite special radiated from him. D-boy loathed him and the feeling of betrayal surged upwards, so intensely he could have strangled Eff there and then. Not that it would have been much use seeing as neither of them had lungs or a windpipe. Instead, D-boy resorted to mentally screaming at him, English being abandoned over preference of angry nonsense.

Satan bent down to view Eff more closely, a finger resting upon his chin thoughtfully. "Yes..." He straightened himself to his full height again, "Even we, the very beings who created you, did not realise that Figments - or you at least - had the ability to break free from our control. It's all_ very _interesting. That's why we would like to study you both, so as to ensure such a thing does not happen again. Any questions so far? I'd _hate_ to overload you with too much information."

_Experiments?_

_So we're to be nothing more than experiments? Surely that's worse than being a Voice of a Flusher?_

_But...Satan said we'd get whatever we wanted most..it's a small price to pay I guess._

_I was promised that I would stop existing before_

_And I was used. Lied to. How do I know I wont end up here again?_

_I don't. That's the truth of it. I only have Satan's word to go by, and he's already betrayed me before, proving it means nothing. I can't help wanting to do anything for that chance though. The chance for everything to end and be beautiful. He knows I can't refuse such an offer. Because if he's being sincere, I'll have missed the only opportunity I have left._

_I'm being used all over again. Fucking __shit__._

D-boy looked forlornly over to Eff, then up at the figure towering over them. "Why...why do you need me to be...an experiment?"

"You never cease to impress me Pyschodoughboy. Nothing escapes you, does it?" D-boy grew more and more irritated each time Satan used his full name. All it did was remind him when Eff used it to undermine him. "As I said previously, you used to be one Figment. This could be a reason for Mr. Fuck's behaviour, although we cannot be certain. This is why, Pyschodoughboy, we need you. We need to see if your behaviour is affected by Mr. Fuck's; it would not be preferable should a defective Figment influence another into thinking the same way."

Eff's blank eyes widened and let out a hiss upon hearing himself described as "defective", especially since it was spoken by the being who had until then, practically flattered him. That was a minor victory for D-boy, and chose not to hide the broad smile which had appeared on his face. Something crept into his mind, the smile fading, "Why couldn't you just examine us while we were with Nny?"

"There wasn't enough time to collect all the necessary information before you were both destroyed by the waste, which is why I must send you back."

_Send us back!?_

_I don't fucking want to go back!_

_He said nothing about going back to Earth - __shit__!_

"Why the fuck do we have to do that!? Why can't you monitor us_ here_?" D-boy's voice squeaked with rage, while Eff broke out into manic squeals of delight. "Holes in you Eff! This is all your fault, you defective fuck!"

Eff's laughter stopped abruptly. D-boy had hit a nerve and they both knew it. "I am not defective! I'm _not_! You just can't take it that you've lost again. You heard Satan, we're goingback! I've _won_ Psychodoughboy. You haven't got anything to use against me now, you're completely _defenseless_, because I'm getting what I wanted and you have come and watch!"

A faint echo resounded after Eff had stopped screaming, and now stood shaking. For once, D-boy had found him terrifying. He hadn't - couldn't - physically hurt him, but he had been so right it was frightening. D-boy _was _defenseless as he was once again going to be forced to exist. It was exactly what Eff wanted; to see him suffer.

The elder Figment composed himself.

"You're wrong Fuck. You're wrong. Because when this is over, I get what I want too. After this experiment is over, it all ends for me. I wont ever have to put up with you and your shit again, there'll be nothing and it'll be perfect."

The other smiled maliciously. "But until then, you have to go through hell all over again. That's good enough for me Psycho."

D-boy was about to retort, but Satan stepped in. "Are you both quite finished? I'm rapidly losing my patience, and starting to wonder if you deserve the reward I promised you. If you aren't going to co-operated, then you leave me no choice."

The Figments were both silent, although the atmosphere was now both heavy and electric.

"If you allow me to explain Psychodoughboy, I'll tell you exactly why you have to go back." Satan looked down on them both disapprovingly, causing them both to feel like children who had been reprimanded. "We believe that the true potential of Eff's abnormal behaviour can only be experienced fully in the environment it was performed in. Here in Nowhere would not give accurate results as Eff desired to be Real on Earth, which is the main impetus of his actions. Can you understand this Pyschodoughboy?"

He nodded, looking anywhere except at the others.

Satan continued, "Because you are needed to participate, you must accompany him there. But, there's one little twist we're going to throw in, to increase Mr. Fuck's - and possibly your - behaviour. Though I assure you, you'll both get what you most want."

_This is getting worse. _

_Worse? How can things possibly get worse?_

_I'm getting stuck with that shit again, going back to Earth..._

_I don't care._

_I do._

_No. All I have to do is get through this. Then I can end it all. I wont remember anything. There wont be anything. I just have to be patient._

_I'll win in the end._

D-boy let out a defeated sigh, "And how do you propose to do that?"

The Devil grinned deviously, the dark tendrils from his cape snaking higher than before. It certainly made him look more ominous. "I, and those that are in charge of the system, agree that to achieve the best results we are to push you to your limits. The way we shall do this is to make you experience what you detest most; by sharing each other's desire, naturally. Of course, seeing as your wish is to not Exist, Mr. Fuck's must come first."

_This can't be happening. This __cannot__ be happening. No. I don't want to. I won't. Oh fuck. This is happening..._

Satan's next words barely regestered with either of them, though just enough to be remembered. D-boy didn't even realise that he was, in fact, the better off. Although he would have to put up with Eff's wish, he could be patient and wait until the experiment was over, then and he would stop Existing. Whereas with Eff, all he had to look forward to was his own purpose to be cut short, and his Reality limited. "By making you experience each other's wants, we hope to see whether Figments _can _pursuade others to defy our command, change their objectives. You disappoint me Pyschodoughboy, I can see you haven't worked it out yet. The whole point of this is that if you can convince Mr. Fuck that your way is better, then obviously your desire will be the one that's shared at the end. I imagine it will be quite an amusing study."

_Fuck._

D-boy attempted to form coherent sentence, but failed. Eloquence was something he considered to have perfected, though it seemed everyone has relapses in certain situations. "But what if I...Eff - neither- convince each him- me?"

Satan laughed thinly. "If that was meant to be "What if neither of you convince the other?", then you both end up back here of course."

_Fucking __shit__._


	6. Growth

The rate at which things were currently progressing scared D-boy. When he took the time to think about it, which wasn't often, he would realise that he couldn't stand change. It was unfamiliar, and like anything unfamiliar, it was something he had no control over or understanding of. It probably all just boiled down to being bestowed with a narrow-minded purpose of releasing the Wall Monster. Ignoring anything which didn't coincide with this purpose left a lot of things feeling alien, quite a disadvantage, really. On the even more infrequent times D-boy would compare himself to Eff, he'd see that Eff had the upper hand in this area. His curiosity gave him more understanding and Eff seemed to take everything and anything in his stride; a new experience was something to be valued, not avoided in _his_ opinion.

Understandably, Eff was probably dealing with all of this far better than himself.

_So what else is new?_

The panic that had been rising rapidly had peaked, and now any hope of controlling the situation had been distinguished. Without being able to control anything, D-boy was left feeling hollow and vulnerable. Something had to be controlled, he _needed _to have power of something, otherwise he'd be exposed and completely defenceless. Without even thinking about it, he knew he now was at the complete mercy of the Devil, who had power to do whatever he wanted with them both, as he had just shown. D-boy had no say in this, there was no control which could be salvaged out of this, there was just the Devil's will and they had to comply with it. The punishment for refusing to do so was all too clear; he would not be granted his wish of not existing.

Though, D-boy had never been truly in control. He had come close, there was no denying that, just like before with Nny. He had grazed absolute dominance then, maybe even grasped it for a time, after all, he had been the victor. He had been the one to complete their purpose, free their "master", be reclaimed. There was no doubt he had won, but there was the slight nagging feeling it had been sheer luck. Johnny had killed himself_ accidentally_, not because D-boy had pushed him into it. Not being in control of anything was horrifying. It made him feel weak. Weak and helpless and drowning. The sensation of drowning was new, but it was there. It was as if each time his head broke the surface of control, a cruel wave or hidden current would force him back under, the light above the surface growing fainter as he sank. This thought caused a shiver to flow up his back and down to the ends of his rounded hands. It was a dull sensation, as if it was a memory. Perhaps it was, a memory of Johnny's, and now his styrofoam body was trying to mimic it. Lacking nerves would account for it feeling weak and somehow blurred. It was like the senses in a dream, in which everything is diffused and nothing feels truly real. Had someone never experienced pain, and then tried to imitate the feeling, it would not be unlike how D-boy felt sensation.

At the moment, D-boy's Figment shell of a body was desperately telling him he wanted to be sick. Of course he couldn't possibly vomit, but his ignorant reflexes protested otherwise. Though if he could, it would probably have made him feel better, even if it would be contradicting himself. Feeling, as a whole, was just another reminder of existence, so it was ironic a feeling could possibly make him feel better. At least, looking at it another way, he could release all the anxiety and despair and every other emotion that was invading him. He could just be hollow and perhaps then he'd have no distractions, he could get this over with and non-existence would be his. Not feeling would be a step closer at least, regardless of it being a cheap imitation. That could be overlooked.

_I'm..._

_Why does everything have to be so complicated?_

Simplicity was probably never going to be something D-boy would experience, and he wasn't sure if it was just himself complicating rather straight-forward things, or whether he was being realistic. Nothing ever seemed to bother Eff as greatly as it did D-boy, but then, Eff never paid attention to anything long enough for it to bother him. Already, it was apparent the younger Figment had an entirely different way of dealing with the situation. It wasn't troubling him in the slightest, though that was to be expected seeing as he was getting everything he had ever wanted all at once. Not only was he to supposedly become Real, D-boy was being forced to as well, much to the other's delight.

_The __sadistic fuck__._

_So he lied to me after all. Even after he told me it wouldn't benefit him._

_He said...he said he wanted to co-operate, be honest with each other._

_...he said he didn't hate me - indifferent - that all seems like shit now. Of course it fucking was! It always has been! He said it just to make me believe whatever shit he said wasn't out of hatred - that it was actually based on rational thought. No manipulation. God I'm so stupid._

_It was all just part of this act he's been pulling_

_Convince me to trust him that he's past deceiving and hiding ulterior motives under the fucking lies he's spun me_

_He wanted this. He's __always__ wanted this. Pulled me further in to wait for an opportunity - just like this - when he knew I'd fall and he'd win. But no, he didn't just stop there, he wanted to leave me in complete defeat. God __fucking__ damn I'm so stupid._

_He really does hate me._

That stung. D-boy didn't question it.

His eyes automatically focussed on Eff, the resulting feelings so strong and varied they amounted to a huge ball of nothing. One emotion blurred into another, twisting and tangling into a writhing mass. He couldn't begin to unravel them all, pick apart the separate feelings, identify them, understand them, so they were left to writhe until they exhausted themselves. For now, D-boy viewed Eff with blank apathy, no longer caring, his mind mechanical, on auto-pilot.

It was better that way.

_You can confront him about this later, not now._

His body complied and resisted walking up to Eff and punching him in his stupid face.

It probably wouldn't help, or coming anywhere near close to justice, but D-boy would have enjoyed it.

Neither of them had yet noticed Satan had been absent for a while, each, once again, lost in their own minds. Though it was unusual for Eff to ever concentrate on something for so long, he had been fantasizing about finally becoming Real, and so had not seen Satan exit through the doorway which had appeared earlier. The door itself had also silently disappeared. He was so caught up in his own imagination, D-boy was the one who first became aware the Devil had left. After the hazy remnants of his internal conflict had subsided, he could begin to think clearly. Had Satan left them, and it was all just a joke at their expense? Was he coming back? Why had he left, and where to? His mind was assaulted with rapid-fire questions he simply didn't have the answers to. Looking round, to check he hadn't moved behind him, D-boy was confident the Devil was no longer in Nowhere. He then ran over to Eff, his short legs making this look quite comical, and jabbed him in the face.

"What was that for? Surely you aren't going resort to violence over this?" Eff quickly composed himself after being dragged rudely away from his daydream, and instantly settled himself into his usual sarcastic tone, rubbing the spot where D-boy had poked him. It couldn't have possibly have hurt him, in fact, he felt nothing but the awareness of the touch. It was much like the feeling of a numb limb after the circulation had been cut off for a while. The mind knows it should feel something, but can only see the contact. Perhaps this was another memory of Johnny's.

D-boy glared, and found one of the emotions that had been trapped in the massive ball of feelings had freed itself. It introduced itself as Resentment.

"I'm in no mood for arguing, Fuck. Later, definitely, but not now."

_Didn't Eff say something like that earlier?_

_Shut up._

_  
I'm not like him._

"It's only because you'll lose again," Eff sneered. D-boy hissed at him and deliberately poked him in the eye; half because he knew the other detested touch, half because it made him feel better. "Stop it, goddammit!"

_Ha._

"Why the_ hell _should I do what you want? After everything you've fucking done to me just now, what makes you think I'm ever going to listen to you again?" D-boy squealed, his voice breaking as his words grew more emotive than he liked. No, try and keep this simple. Arguing could be done later, though it was difficult to obey that mantra D-boy was telling himself. It was also hard not to just hurl a bombardment of pokings at Eff too, but again, that could wait. "Have you, by any chance, realised yet that Satan isn't here?"

Suspiciously, Eff glanced to either side. Then, after seeing D-boy was telling the truth, he spun round worriedly. Surely he would have noticed Satan leave? Panic was beginning to rise (it was uncommon anything bothered Eff that much), he couldn't let his chance to be Real escape.

"How long has...has he been gone?" The question was cautious, they usually were between them. It was out of the habit of being constantly on guard, in case they would allow an opportunity for the other to gain an advantage. Though this time, it seemed innocent enough, nothing could be won or lost. It was just a question.

D-boy smirked and answered nonchalantly, "You don't know? You were practically worshipping him earlier. In any case, I have no idea."

"I don't care whether you know or not anyway." Eff failed at trying to hide being beaten, the sulky edge to his voice betraying him. "It's not important. What is is whether he's coming back or not. It's in your interest too that he does."

"True, if we fail to convince each other our own desire is better, we both end up back here. I'd rather not be here." D-boy then added as an afterthought, "Even though that seems the most likely outcome of all this."

Mutual agreement.

After a brief silence, Eff tested something he had been contemplating, "It'd be stupid though, to explain all that rot and then just ditch us. I don't think he was lying to us, he'd not gain anything from it."

"You'd know all about that wouldn't you?" The response was instantaneous, and dripped with sarcasm. D-boy didn't have chance to stop himself, because as soon as he said it, he knew that it had the potential to cause unnecessary conflict between them. But it was too late to do anything about it now, he'd just have to deal with the consequences.

"You _still_ don't believe me do you? Jesus _Christ_, are you really that shallow or are you putting it on?"

Eff's voice had an exasperated note to it, and he held a hand to his forehead. D-boy folded his squat arms defensively. Again, there was something charged about the atmosphere around them, like an unspoken argument. Frustration and loathing jumped between them like an electrical current, drawn to them, just like it was supposed to. At least they could understand this, and in a way, it comforted them. The current battle itself was pointless; neither were going to win, it was just another subject that was never going to be resolved. However, both Figments clung onto it with desperation, anxiously trying to keep it going, embrace something familiar, no matter how destructive it was.

"Shallow? Eff, nothing you do you hints at you being remotely trustworthy. In fact, it's the exact opposite."

"Didn't you listen to what I said before? I told you, this isn't some way of controlling you or -"

"And all I have is your word, which, quite frankly, is worth shit to me. Eff, there's no way I could ever think of you as being sincere. Ever. Surely you can understand that? We've manipulated each other for too long. Just like we're meant to. You tell me things I want to hear, get me to believe you, so in the end I'll fall harder. Right now is a good example; all that rot you tried to make me buy before, about co-operating, about fixing it for us. You never meant any of it. God, you're so selfish!"

"And you aren't!?" Eff screamed, his fists curled into small balls. They desperately wanted to collide with D-boy's face, but Eff decided that probably wouldn't do any good whatsoever -for the moment. Perhaps if Satan _did_ come back, and this_ wasn't _one big lie, Eff could punch him when he had nerves to feel it. He snickered mentally. "Why do you have to be like this, Psychodoughboy? Why can't you just accept I'm not always lying to you? I'm not the one who dragged you into this, so don't you dare try and blame me._ Satan _was the one who said you're going to be Real. I didn't tell him to -"

_If he even __tries__ to make out to be the victim of all this..._

"No! But if you hadn't been such a defective fuck in the first place, we'd never be here!"

Eff let out a squeal of rage and launched himself at the other, the momentum causing them both to fall over. Even in Nowhere, there was apparently a solid surface, even if it wasn't visible, unless they had both expected to land on something and so it had happened. There was nothing to suggest against the fact they could have easily continued to fall downwards into the endless nothingness, propelled by the motion because of the lack of friction to stop them. Quite like space, really. As it was, there had been something there to stop their fall. D-boy lay dazed, unsure of what had just happened. There had just been a screaming blur of white and now he was on his back, his short arms and legs wiggling frantically in an effort to right himself. Because their bodies were pastry display stands, their backs were straight and only their fronts had shape and contours. This made standing up a struggle in D-boy's position.

_I look like a friggin' turtle._

Eff had managed to fall on his front, and so was able to spring back up with ease, wasting no time in pinning D-boy down further by sitting on him, holding his arms. The younger Figment's squat legs barely touched the "floor" as he straddled the other, and it was hard to keep D-boy held down as it was. Understandably, he didn't approve of being sat on and was squirming desperately to get away, while at the same time trying to understand what exactly was going on. However, the older Figment's attempt at trying to free himself only infuriated Eff more, and each time D-boy would move his arm, it would be forced back down. Eff leaned closer to the other, their round styrofoam faces inches away from each other, Eff's expression one of manic insanity, D-boy's confused and alarmed. All the static that had been building and building had just suddenly released, burst, exploded around them. The air seemed to crackle and everything else was forgotten except for the two pastry displays.

"I fucking_ hate you_! I HATE YOU! I'm not defective! This isn't my fault it isn't you can't pin _any_ of this on me just _try it_! You got us into this, you released the Wall Monster, you destroyed us! You destroyed everything! How fucking dare you. You can't even imagine how that feels, be so close and then have it all taken away from you! We could have been Real! Make toast whenever we wanted! But it doesn't matter now it's my win Psycho we are going to be Real so you're going to know exactly how I felt now and I'll fucking watch and laugh you little shit!"

_What..._

_what's going on? he's..._

_he's terrifying_

Eff's manic screaming cut through the atmosphere, his expression jumping between sheer fury and excitement, sometimes the two blurring together, indistinguishable. D-boy barely understood what the other had shrieked at him, due to the speed and high pitch of his voice, but he got the general idea that Eff was truly pissed at him. That was nothing new, but after that outburst, there was more to this than Eff had previously let on. Had D-boy really hurt him that much? He dismissed the idea; they both knew it had been inevitable, no matter how much Eff lied to himself over it. No, this was _not _his fault. He had got what he wanted, despite dragging the other with him, but wouldn't Eff have done the same?

_Of course he would._

_It's __exactly__ what he's doing now._

D-boy, in a final effort, kicked with whatever energy was left in him and Eff's grip was loosened just enough to break free. He wriggled from under the other and with the resulting rush of adrenalin, he managed to jump up and then stagger backwards to a safe distance.

_Eff..._

_god...what's happening to us?_

The younger Figment pulled himself up to a kneeling position, his head bowed. Perhaps it was too much of an effort to stand up completely, or this way, it was easier to avoid looking at the hole in front of him. It was at that point, the atmospheric static returned, which D-boy had noticed when he first became aware of Nowhere ("arrived in" didn't seem quite right). The silence begged him to say something, stop this awkward feeling. As much as he tried, D-boy's mind could think of nothing other than what had just happened, and his stomach felt like it was full of moths. He didn't like it.

_Say something_

"Eff..."

"Shut up."

The moths fluttered.

Both Voices knew, at that moment, the other wished for tear ducts.

The silence was becoming unbearable, the static hissing as mere background noise to it. D-boy felt stupid just stood there, felt he should try and figure out what had happened, but his body and mind weren't doing anything to try and rectify either. They _couldn't_. They had been shocked into not functioning.

"Eff, I'm -"

"Don't you _dare_."

D-boy didn't.

A ripping sound came from behind Eff, which was followed by the whooshing noise of air escaping. The door had appeared again, and the Devil was a black silhouette against the light which came from behind him. The tendrils of his cape snaked lazily, evaporating as they detached. Satan sniggered and a thin smile emerged on his face.

"I can't turn my back for two minutes, can I?"

His dry humour failed to coax even the slightest reaction out of either of them. Eff continued to kneel, staring at the Void which ran for eternity below him, while D-boy absently picked at a flake of paint on his left hand.

"I think you'd both better come with me now. Everything is now arranged and ready for you both."

Eff's head shot up, and in one motion he had got up and wheeled round to face Satan. D-boy, however, merely adjusted his gaze to focus on the figures in front of him, alternating glances between the two.

_So that's where he went._

_To prepare everything for us to become Real._

_..._

_I don't want to go._

Nevertheless, D-boy found his feet following the others, without any recollection of making them move at all. Perhaps it was the subconscious urge not to be left alone in Nowhere. Perhaps Satan was somehow_ forcing _him to follow him. It was possible- fuck, _anything_ seemed possible after everything that had just happened. It was easier not to question things. So D-boy allowed his body to take him through the wooden doorframe, the sudden increase in light temporarily blinding him. After his adjusted, he found himself in a small office; a large desk littered with various pieces of paper, one of those chairs which are fun to spin around on...A row of metal filing cabinets lined the wall on the left, while the one on the right was home to many different television monitors, which appeared to be used for surveillance. Monotone images of downtown streets flicked between camera angles, the pictures grainy with static interference. This increased as Eff moved closer to the screen, enraptured by watching people go about their daily lives, not doubt imagining himself as being amongst them shortly. D-boy snorted indignantly.

Turning his attention to other details of the room, he then noticed a framed photograph of Satan with a woman stood next to him. It was propped up by a stand on the desk, and had been placed next to a withered house plant.

_This is Satan's office...?_

_But who's the woman?_

_...never mind._

D-boy despised himself for allowing his mind to be so easily distracted.

"Come now, we haven't time to go sight-seeing. Wouldn't you rather get this over with as soon as possible, Psychodoughboy?" Satan hissed over his shoulder, as he opened another door that was directly in front of the doorway to Nowhere. Eff hurried to stand by the Devil's side, his impatience at the others clearly evident as his whole body was quivering with anticipation. D-boy breathed a long sigh, knowing this was fully out of his hands, and forced himself to march closer to his own defeat. Satan smirked and held the door open for the Figments to walk through, seeing as they were both far too small to reach the handle (standing at only 2"3, there was a lot of things beyond their reach). Again, D-boy's had to adjust to the change in light, only this time it was due to a decrease in intensity. It took a few moments for him to realise they were now walking down a narrow corridor, their footsteps muffled by the worn carpet on the floor. At intervals on either side, doors emerged from the dank, gruel-coloured walls. The protruding parts were highlighted by a dim orange glow that didn't seem to come from any specific light source.

As they all walked further along the claustrophobic passageway, D-boy noticed that none of the doors were the same, though they were all the same size and either made of metal or wood. Despite this, not one of them was identical. One door made of a dull grey metal had an outline of large, rusted rivets; another had dents jutting out of it, along with deep scratches on the wall around it. Further on, there was a door that looked like those found on ships - complete with porthole and water seeping from under it ("I should get someone to fixthat," Satan commented offhandedly, upon seeing it). A decaying wooden door, which had been warped somehow, had large nails sticking in and out of it, lines on it indicating it had once been boarded up. D-boy found it strange how some looked so old and damaged, it was impossible to see how the hinges still held them up. He then reminded himself that nothing was entirely impossible here. However, the elder Figment physically stopped when he passed a door that looked as if it was brand new. It was the style which belonged exclusively for houses; painted a deep, even blue, silver letterbox and handle, and it felt more out of place than any of those that he had seen previously though he couldn't say why.

_Maybe because it's so __normal__..._

That would do.

"Is it tempting to know what's behind all of these doors Psychodoughboy? I've found you studying them all with great interest." Satan raised his eyebrows at the styrofoam display stand, who seemed unsure of how to answer. Satan, thankfully, relieved him of such a burden, "Nevertheless, the only door you should be concerned about is just a short distance away."

"Yay!" Eff squeaked, that stupid grin returning to his face. He then began to hum annoyingly as they set off once more.

_Why am I letting myself do this?_

_I'm not even...resisting_

_Have I really given up this easily? If I run... fuck. What's the point?  
_

_I can't do anything this is out of my control_

D-boy trailed behind the others subconsciously, as if somehow it would delay his impending failure. He went over his previous actions, analysed them thoroughly to see if he could have done anything different to prevent this. Maybe if he was stronger in the beginning, there would have been no need for Eff...no one to ruin his non-existence, no one for Satan to experiment on. The more D-boy thought about it, the more he convinced himself this had nothing to do with him, this was never his fault. Being created weak was Satan's fault-

But then...

Did that make him as defective as Eff?

The Figment's mental conflict was stopped abruptly as he walked straight into Eff, who had been stood waiting with Satan at their destination.

"Hey!" Eff's manic grin faltered.

"Sorry," mumbled D-boy absently, his gaze fixated on the door before him. It was almost exactly the same colour as the surrounding wall, the wood painted only a few shades darker. In fact, it would have gone unnoticed had the strange glow not revealed it was recessed slightly, the edges highlighted with orange. Compared to all of the previous doors, it was completely bland and featureless; there was a steel-grey plate of metal which had "Push Me" engraved on it, which had then been painted black. D-boy then noticed a smiley face below the text, which looked so out of place he couldn't help but smile slightly. Other than that, there was nothing of interest left about the door, and that felt almost like a disappointment to him. He then found himself being poked in the arm by Eff.

"What _are_ you doing?" D-boy questioned, a note of apathy in his voice.

"You apologised."

_...I did?_

"Does it matter?" The Figment tried to sound as unconcerned as he wished he did, at the same time hoping to convince himself of this as well as Eff.

"There's a first time for everything, I guess."

_Bastard._

Eff's smirk was irritating, but more important matters prevented D-boy dwelling on it for too long. Satan had placed his long, skeletal fingers on the metal plate which read "Push Me", and eyed them both with an impatient expression, finding their constant bickering tedious. To D-boy, this was it; this is where he lost. As soon as he stepped through that door, Eff had won, and they both knew it. No matter how long Satan's research lasted, it would always be too long to bear. Even then, there was no guarantee that he'd stop existing. Seeing as Eff had very little chance of convincing him being Real was wonderful, that meant they would both end up back in Nowhere, stuck forever in the void with each other. Eff was the only one who could possibly win this time; he would be granted his wish of being Real, while dragging D-boy along with him. To the younger Figment, it was deliciously ironic, to the elder; unbearable.

_I can't win._

"This is as far as I will go with you. Although I would enjoy watching this, you are not the most important things I need to deal with," Satan spoke as if they were both just an inconvenience to him. Naturally, Eff was offended; now being labelled not only a defective fuck, but a bothersome one at that. D-boy, on the other hand, was beyond caring.

When he spoke, his voice was cold and distant, "So what now?"

"Yeah, what's going to happen Mr. Devil?" Eff sounded giddy, but there was a hint of apprehension, only noticeable to those attentive enough. Needless to say, D-boy was aware the other was, too, uncertain as to how their "transformation" would be achieved.

Satan smiled, unnervingly. "You are to enter this room. That's all that is required of you."

_He's oversimplifying it._

D-boy gazed warily at Satan, "And you? Are you going back to spy on us with those monitors back-"

"No." The answer was abrupt, which gave the Devil's voice an edge of sincerity. "There are _other ways _of monitoring someone, without actually watching them. Do no think it'd be rather tiresome to watch you all day? Hardly efficient. We will simply observe any changes in the thought patterns, emotions and such you both send out through specially designed technology. You see, every human sends out different electrical signals and our machines can receive and detect any change in them. Not only that, but it can use this data to determine if, and how, your thought patterns have changed. It's all quite interesting really, though I'm probably not the best person to explain all of this to you."

_I knew it._

D-boy let out a short, defeated laugh and looked away, "So were you _really_ granting Eff's wish, or was it because you can't monitor us in this form? I highly doubt styrofoam can give off electrical signals."

Eff's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open. He had been so naive; the very thought of being deceived had not entered his mind. How could he have ever thought Satan would make his desires reality from the goodness of his heart? Of course it all seemed so obvious _now_. Satan simply smiled, half-amused at the situation. Eff was muttering various expletives under his breath, along with strings of incoherent sentences.

_It serves him right._

"So was everything else just part of this fucking lie?" Eff squealed at the Devil, who seemed unaffected by the younger Figment's tantrum. Meanwhile, D-boy smirked silently to himself, his painted face a textbook "I told you so" expression. This would serve as some form of justice, as even though he and Eff were still being made Real, it wasn't because Eff had won. They were only being made real because it suited the experiment, and not because Eff was getting his wish granted. It made it that much tolerable.

"It's a shame Psychodoughboy saw through my scheme so early. I would have _preferred_ it if you deluded yourself a little while longer. Never mind." Satan toyed with a ram-like horn with his free hand, as the other was still pressed against the door -their door. "But no, Mr. Fuck, everything else I have told you is the truth. You will have to convince the other, or you will both end up back in Nowhere. After all, that's the main impetus for this experiment."

_That makes sense._

_Hee if only you could see yourself Eff, you shit!_

"Fuck this! Fucking holes in this! Don't you dare say anything Psycho, I've still won!"

D-boy quite happily complied; they both knew Eff's victory was hollow.

"If you're quite ready, then I would appreciate you going through here." Satan pushed the door open, the expected squeak of hinges never arriving. Eff was, predictably, the first to storm past the Devil, sulkiness radiating from him, and was then enveloped by the thick curtain of darkness which lay beyond the door. D-boy was more hesitant, and strained his eyes to make out anything in the room before him. Even Eff's white body wasn't visible and he couldn't more than a few feet away; it was unnatural. Then again, what wasn't lately? The elder Figment sighed, and after a last forlorn look at the Devil, he went to join the other.

The door was slammed shut unceremoniously behind D-boy.

After walking forwards a few hesitant steps, he bumped into Eff, causing them both to jump. At least that was something positive about the dark.

"Hey watch it!" Eff hissed, his voice little more than a whisper. It paid to be careful sometimes.

"You watch it." D-boy defended himself automatically, but it was harmless. The elder figment guessed they were only inches away from each other, yet Eff was lost in the thick darkness. Almost curiously, D-boy held his own hand in front of his face, to which he found even that could not be seen.

_Perhaps we're blind._

That seemed unlikely.

Eff's voice drifted over to him, sounding further away than before, "I don't like this. I can't see a thing. Has Satan...has he tricked us again?"

_What's he moving around for!?_

Who knows what's out there! Shit!

However, there was real fear in Eff's words, and again D-boy felt the obligation to feel sympathetic. They had been through everything else together, this should be the same. Hadn't Eff said something about that earlier? It wasn't important but D-boy couldn't think properly until he'd remembered.

_We're drawn to each other..._

_can't function without each other._

_So we have to do this together because we shouldn't -can't - be separated._

With newfound determination, along with a sense of responsibility, D-boy tried to think rationally, ignoring where these sudden feelings had come from.

"Listen to me Eff, don't move any more. We don't know what's in here." He took the other's silence to understand it was safe to continue, " I don't think that Satan was lying to us about making us Real, even I can't deny that. So...so there has to be a way out."

"I'm scared."

D-boy's stomach felt like it was full of moths again.

Without warning, blinding lights overhead were turned on, making the Figments shield their eyes from the glare. The choking darkness fled to be replaced by this artificial brightness, the room's identity revealed. After a few moments, D-boy dared to lower his hands and took a first suspicious glimpse of the surroundings. It was neither what he had expected nor did it surprise him. Considering everything, he was probably now immune to any form of shock. On the first scan of the area, there didn't seem to be anything unusual or harmful. Without that primary problem to worry about, D-boy could analyse their new situation more thoroughly. His first impression was that the room was a large bathroom; the walls were of a neutral, uninteresting green colour, white square tiles lined the floor, and on further inspection, a plughole was spotted in the centre of the room. At either side of the plughole were two large, shiny objects, but the Figment couldn't quite work out what they were. He thought he remembered seeing them on a television programme once, though Johnny had turned the show off shortly after as it had made him feel sick. The objects glinted in the harsh light, which was again, coming from nowhere and everywhere. D-boy's first assumption quickly dissipated as he realised the two objects were stainless steel operating tables, and they were both stood in what appeared to be an operating _theatre_.

_Eff._

Anxiously, D-boy peered around the room for Eff and called out his name. The response came from behind the operating tables, which had obscured the younger Figment from view. Panic subsiding, D-boy began to make his way towards the other, Eff doing likewise. Their feet tapped on the tiled floor, the room reverberating the sound. As the two Figments drew nearer, D-boy noticed the look of genuine worry in the other's expression, and reasoned he probably looked the same.

"D-boy...what's-"

Eff didn't have chance to finish his sentence as there was an almighty smash from every direction. Metal robotic hands had burst through the concrete walls, lumps of stone spat out at lethal speeds, dust billowing in smothering clouds. The mechanical hands swarmed to the pastry display stands, their metal arms extending endlessly behind the theatre walls, and grabbed and grasped to get a hold of the writhing styrofoam Figments. D-boy hadn't chance to react and now struggled helplessly in the forceful grip of four hands, each holding on to a separate limb. Meanwhile, Eff was trying worm his way through the mechanical hands, the scrape of metal on metal going through them both, as the hands fought and writhed to restrain the younger Figment. Each time the hands moved, they tore further into the walls surrounding them with ease, rubble littering the once spotless tiles. Eff struggled helplessly to get away, springing with unknown agility under the shining metal tables, searching for a way out. The hands crashed through clumsily, the steel legs scraping along the tiled floor. However, the door which they had entered the room through had completely disappeared, leaving no trace of it ever being there, and Eff didn't dare risk an escape through the holes the arms had created in the walls. Besides it being likely that they would crush him, either accidentally or on purpose, he couldn't be sure of a drop or something equally dangerous was on the other side.

But at that moment, D-boy was hurled roughly onto the operating table, forceful enough so that even his light styrofoam body made a sickening thud, and was unable to see anymore of the other's futile escape attempt. The shining metallic arms held each of the Figments limbs, acting like shackles, so that movement was impossible. Except from the limited motion of his head, he had been effectively immobilized. Even then, it was hard to see what exactly was going on because D-boy was unable to sit up. A crash nearby signalled that the arms had finally managed to catch Eff, and it was confirmed by the younger Figment's frantic shrieks.

"Let me go! Get the fuck off me oh shit D-boy what the fuck's going on!? GET OFF!"

A pathetic whimper cut through the motorized sounds of the arms, though neither Figment could be sure who it had come from. Once they were both successfully restrained, the deafening crunch and scraping of the arms tearing through the walls subsided, with only the occasional smash of loose bricks falling to the ground. Eff was still as vocal as ever, screaming to be released, while D-boy reasoned that there was nothing he could do. He again had no control and felt overwhelmingly helpless, unable to do anything for either of them.

_Please..._

_please just..._

_get it over with._

"D-boy! Help me I don't like it they won't let go I can't move! Shit what's going on!?"

_I can't Eff_

_I'm sorry_

_I can't do anything I can never do anything_

"Are you there!? Answer me you shit!"

D-boy, with great effort, looked out of the corner of his eye and was just able to see the other still trying to break free. A pained expression was on his face, though it couldn't have been from physical hurting. D-boy felt an icy trickle flow the length of his body, his hands left tingling, and found himself wanting to free Eff from the hands holding him down, instead of caring about his own wellbeing. He'd later recognise it as compassion.

_Just say something..._

_Something that'll..make him feel better._

"I'm here, I'm here. Don't think about it, it'll be over soon. Imagine how this'll all be worth it when you're made Real, remember?"

That was the best D-boy could manage at anything remotely comforting.

He looked over towards the younger Figment, noticing that Eff's were tightly shut, seemingly taking his advice for once. He supposed drastic times called for drastic measures, namely, doing as the other said. D-boy's view was suddenly cut off as more mechanical devices shot up from beneath the floor, debris raining around them both. The air was dense with the sounds of whirring, hydraulic hissing, grinding, as the new robotic tools positioned themselves menacingly over the pastry display stands. The unnatural light glinted on the surface of the arms, their outlines bathed with a silver radiance, gleaming along the edges as they moved.

Without warning, the arms which had erupted from the floor descended upon the figments, and as they drew closer, D-boy saw with horror that each had a different instrument on their tips. One limb continued to advance rapidly, while the others halted a short distance above. The first stage in the process of becoming Real had begun. D-boy swore to himself that he would not close his eyes, that he would see this through. Because of this vow, he witnessed the first arm plunge a syringe into the top of his arm, the arm then retreating, it's purpose complete. Eff cried out in shock, while the elder Figment remained stoically silent. A few moments after the needle's contents had been injected, a warm tingling sensation began to pulsate along the affected limb. First, it was subtle and initially, D-boy assumed he was imagining it. However, the intensity of the heat increased, and searing waves travelled the length of his arm. The scalding sensation spread into the Figment's chest, flooding his body. Down it went, in a torrent into each of his legs, at the same time, it surged into the other arm. The heat was unbearable; it burned and throbbed and unrelenting. The liquid heat then gushed upwards right into D-boy's head, his vision swimming and specked with black dots. It felt as if his head was going to explode with the pressure building inside it, no release for the swirling, pulsating heat.

_This is..._

_this is real._

_fucking shit this is real! i can -hot so hot shit- i can feel this this is real oh fuck_

D-boy tried to see what was happening, but could only just see his arms at either side, unable to see over his chest. Even then, the blinding pain blurred his vision, making it hard to concentrate. He just wanted it to end, make the pain stop, make everything stop. He didn't want this, this is what Eff wanted, oh god make it stop. They were both screaming. Their voices cracked and high-pitched, sounded like styrofoam rubbing against styrofoam almost. Neither of them heard the horrendous noises they were making. They were unable to think about anything except the searing heat which had flooded their bodies, pulsing, churning. No matter how much the Figments tried to move, escape from the agony, the hands continued to grip their limbs, unyielding. A new sensation crept into D-boy's awareness, entwining with the blazing heat. His body crawled, itched; it was maddening and he let out a choked sob. Another feeling quickly followed, which made D-boy's entire body feel _tight_. His arms, legs, chest, head, all felt so tight and constricted. Something needed to give, relieve this taut sensation. The Figment turned his head to examine his arm to try and work out what the hell was going on. A wave of nausea washed over him; his arm was _growing_. Before his very eyes, it was growing. A freakish long, white limb was protruding from his side, no longer the squat arm of a pastry display stand. Forcing himself not to look away, D-boy realised that his arm wasn't indented with holes and the circular pattern of styrofoam. Instead, it was smooth and soft, with actual shape compared to it's former sausage-like appearance. He watched his hand split and divide into separate fingers, the searing heat somehow amplifying further at the points where the digits grew out of. The same happened at the base of D-boy's feet, which had elongated and the temperature peaked unbelievably high at the points where individual toes sprouted.

_What...what is this?_

_Oh shit make it stop i don't want i don't want this_

The injection had caused the styrofoam to morph into human skin, or an artificial imitation of it at least. D-boy saw the new white flesh be contaminated by a more human skin hue, although still somewhat paler, as it glided under the surface. It trickled around each contour of the Figment's newly shaped body, which was now limp in the mechanised hands' grip. The hands apparently had adjusted how tight to hold each limb as it grew, the arms' hydraulics hissing to accommodate the changing location. This was all unnoticed by the two Figments who were more concerned at their agonising transformation. Although the constricting feeling had diminished as their bodies, especially appendages, grew, the crawling sensation was still present as their skin continued to mutate. There was always the heat. It surged in waves, like a blistering tide trapped in D-boy's body. It now concentrated in heaving, streaming pools, forming muscle, tissue, a piercing, aching undercurrent accompanying it. The limp skin started to look more solid, increasing in thickness, but was still abnormally flexible due to the lack of bones. An explosion of temperature was centred around the Figment's stomach, a scratching, writhing sensation following. Organs formed, growing in painful cocoons of heat, and a horrible stretching, pulsating feeling defined D-boy as being male. His head felt as if it was about to split open, the pressure building and building. A whirlpool of scalding liquid churned for an eternity inside, forming a brain to contain the mind and be responsible for the body's functions.

D-boy's vision was then obscured as the skin grew over his eyes.

Panic spilled over at not being able to see what was happening, as if that somehow made all the difference, made the whole procedure just bearable. After his most prominent sense had been terminated, all he could do now was rely on his other senses to give him an idea what was going on. Something was swarming all over his face, stretching the skin, forming ears, full, woman-like lips, separate eyelids. However, his mouth, eyes and nostrils had fused shut, and now came the dire need to _breathe_. It was something D-boy had never experienced before, but his recently formed lungs screamed at him to inhale. His body's instincts begged him for oxygen.

_I..._

_stop_

_stop it i don't.. Eff...no i don't.._

_don't want to_

_this..._

D-boy surfaced from beneath the waves of this torture long enough to observe how silent it had grown. It was then that he realised that they had both been screaming, their newly formed vocal chords giving the blood curdling cries a chilling human sound. Since the skin had covered their mouths, their shrieks had been muffled considerably, at the same time taking away the only outlet to vent their distress. God, he needed to breathe soon or...

The clanking of stiff gears and scraping of metal sounded like a death knoll to D-boy, utter terror surging through his whole battered body, an uncomfortable lump rising in his throat. Even though the experience was new, some internal instinct told him to swallow, and the lump receded. The inability to see amplified everything D-boy was feeling, sensing, making it all the more horrifying.

_I need to breathe._

A whirring noise grew louder and louder, faster, closer, the suspense destroying him. Suddenly, something was driven with a sickening thud into D-boy's chest, the force sending rippling aftershocks through his abdomen and stomach, his limp limbs thrashed against the arms still pinning him down. It tore through the skin, probing deeper and deeper, the skin throbbing around the object inside him. Nothing hurt apart from the searing heat, other sensations still felt like the way they were experienced as a styrofoam pastry display stand. Something was leaking. It was leaking into him from the probe, and it was so cold. His entire being was on fire except for that one area which seemed to be filling with icy water. D-boy felt the probe being removed, the burning liquid rushing to take its place, repair the hole, sew skin back together. The cold was untouched and now started to spread. Thin trickles of intense cold began to extend, slowly at first, then faster, gaining momentum as the threads grew stronger. The heat hissed around the tendrils as they snaked to every part of D-boy's body, growing longer and longer, sometimes branching off, but always growing.

_I need to breathe._

The Figment felt the cold flow around his chest, encasing it in a cold embrace. From the central lump, which felt like it was made of pure of ice, the threads of cold flowed to his arms, right down to the tips of each finger. At the same time, some of the threads coursed on a path downwards, leaving the outer layer of skin prickling in its wake. Before progressing all the way to his legs, the icy tendrils uncomfortably branched out to D-boy's newly grown manhood. The rest continued their route down his legs, coiling around muscle and tissue, and ended at his toes. Lastly, a large torrent of coldness travelled in a line along the length of D-boy's back and wrapped around the delicate organ that was his brain. He noticed then that the fire was beginning to cool. No longer needed to build his body, the heat was dissipating and was being replaced by the cold which gripped his insides.

_I need to breathe_

_Fuck I need to please just let it end i can't take much more of this_

_so close...i don't...want it to be complete._

_just let me die here_

D-boy broke through the surface of his suffering, and in a brief moment of clarity, realised that Satan would not let him die in this process. He was then submerged again, helpless to stop or even ease the pain for both of them. Through the haze, the Figment heard an ominous hissing sound, different to that of the hydraulic mechanics of the arms. He was glad that he wasn't going to see this.

_just let it stop_

As he thought those words, the hissing intensified and something slashed across his mouth, separating his lips. Similarly, nasal holes were punched through the skin. Immediately, D-boy breathed, inhaling deeply, coughing and spluttering; like the first breath of a newborn baby. The icy cold was dripping down from his mouth and nose, down his neck, in a lazy stream. Oxygen flooded to his muscles, the frozen core thawing, the intricate web of chilling threads releasing their grip on his insides.

His heart began to beat.

At first, it was just a weak flutter, but each successive beat grew stronger. A regular pattern formed, a natural rhythm that pulsed blood along defrosted veins, arteries. With each exhausted gasp, D-boy filled his lungs, instinctively knowing he needed to do so to keep his fragile heart beating. Keep it working.

Keep him living.

However the brief respite was always going to be too short. Another machine was already making itself heard, the mechanics scraping and rasping as it positioned itself. It cranked and heaved itself into place, the pressure in the valves released unexpectedly. Unknown to D-boy whose eyesight was still impaired, a segmented metal tube had emerged from the end of the robotic arm, with the end of the tube tapering to a point. It snaked through the air, the mechanics groaning under the apparent strain, like a curious tentacle. Unlike everything which had happened so far, there was nothing sudden or done hurriedly about it. Instead, it glided leisurely towards D-boy and stopped a few inches above his head. The tail-like instrument then lowered itself down and brushed against the Figment's cheek, that caused his body to shiver. The device then slithered into D-boy's mouth, almost tentatively. D-boy reached out with a newly formed tongue, instantly wishing he hadn't as it tasted strongly metallic. At that, the instrument drove itself brutally down his throat, forcing him to breathe through his nose. His frail heart pounded violently, which frightened him, not used to the feeling. Still, the metal tool drove itself in deeper until the end of the object had left the arm completely. It now sat coiled around in his intestines, right up to the roof of D-boy's mouth. From there, it flowed upwards, morphing into a shining silvery liquid, and acted like water gushing out of a fountain. It slid under the surface of the skin in a torrent, solidifying around D-boy's brain to form a skull. More of the metallic liquid formed his facial features; a nose, cheek bones, a jaw, eye sockets, the rest coursing to the other parts of his body.

As soon as the skull had been formed, another machine sprang into action, slicing open D-boy's sealed eyelids. His nerves registered it and he let out howl of pain, finally being able to truly feel things physically. Warm liquid seeped from the wounds, which had already started to sting and throb. Blank, grotesque eye sockets were swiftly filled with eyeballs, that instantaneously began to connect themselves. However, the Figment couldn't see at once, as his eyes were so delicate and still joining themselves. They needed to develop like the rest of him.

_Fuck..._

_If I could see...shit. Eff...this is his fault._

It travelled the length of his back, separating into smaller pieces to make up a spine. More of the substance grew to form a ribcage, like two large hands protecting his heart and lungs. Other slithers of the metal broke off to form bones elsewhere, sliding between muscle and skin, finally allowing the Figment to have movement. Even though the robotic arms were still holding him down, D-boy attempted to move his fingers. That slight movement sent a shot of agony up his arm, but the movement was there. He tried to move his neck to see how Eff was but that was unbearable, and there was no point in inflicting further pain on himself. Surely their transformation was nearly complete?

_i want to sleep_

_just ...forget everything and sleep._

Something stuck into D-boy's upper arm, but he had no strength left to care. Shortly after his skin began to tingle and prickle, the feeling especially concentrated on the top of his head. Fine hair, along with eyebrows and lashes, grew on his naked body in a way that looked like the process had been accelerated, his scalp crawling as dark hair sprouted from it, falling about his face. Teeth pushed their way out of his gums, and nails grew from underneath his skin.

Finally, the whirring of the machines ceased, the only sound remaining was the slowing down of gears, and the creaking of settling machinery. D-boy then became aware of the sound of his own ragged breathing, his lungs taking in short laboured breaths. His eyes were still blurred and blinking stung, his battered body crying out with exhaustion. _Everywhere _hurt. There wasn't a part of him that was left unbeaten. He began to shake from the exertion of what his body had been put through.

_Eff._

"Eff?"

His throat burned, left raw and hoarse from the silver instrument. D-boy viewed his new voice with confusion. It sounded like him, only far deeper and without the added squeak of styrofoam. He was too tired too give it much thought at that moment in time.

"Eff?" _shit that hurts _"Are you alright?"

There was pause, the elder Figment's heart rate increasing. He didn't like feeling something moving inside him.

"Of course I'm fucking not you shit."

A smile grazed D-boy's face, though like everything, it hurt to do so, and exhaled quickly, after realising he had been holding his breath. Eff's voice sounded familiar too. He sounded younger than himself, D-boy reflected, though it held the sarcastic tone he knew well.

The strange light was then extinguished, the suffocating darkness returning once more. Both Figments were too tired and sore to care, their bodies craving rest to heal and recuperate. The robotic hands' grip on their limbs was released, though neither of them had the energy to move now, and simply waited for the next stage in Satan's experiment. The metal hands then returned, the scraping of metal echoing around the room, to lift them off the operating tables. The harsh contact made their bodies sting and Eff whimpered softly, while D-boy gritted his teeth, speaking too much of an effort. Even though his vision was blurred, he could make out a bright rectangular light emerging in front of him. Something stirred lazily in his memory.

_...a doorway?_

The arm holding D-boy groaned as it extended him towards the opening. He was then dropped heavily on the ground in a crumpled heap, causing him to yelp in pain, hissing and sobbing. His body gave in and retreated into unconsciousness, desperate to escape and heal. Eff was released beside the other, cursing, his aching eyes spilling tears. He managed to turn his head to look at D-boy next to him, raising his eyebrows with half-attempted surprise. Somehow, he expected him to look roughly like that, disregarding how distorted the image was due to his sore eyes, and vaguely wondered what his own reflection was like. Eff smiled, triumphantly, and allowed sleep to take over his weary body.


	7. Self

_Where am I?_

That question was rapidly growing old. It was almost obligatory for people who had awoken from any form of long sleep to ask that. Just because this wasn't unfamiliar to him though, it didn't mean he had any more of an idea as to where he was.

_What...what is this?_

D-boy brushed a finger against something itchy, yet warm, that had been draped over him. Opening his eyes was too much of an effort at that moment, and decided he would do so eventually when he felt more capable. For now, his sense of touch would have to make do. Another twitch of his aching digits, the woolen fabric sifted through the gaps between them, and he welcomed it. Subconsciously shifting to be buried further under it, D-boy disregarded the possibility of suffocating, and ignored the dull gnawing pain which was present throughout his abused body. All that mattered was more of his body being covered by the pleasant, warming material.

_A blanket?_

How had _that _happened? He certainly doubted he had thought to cover himself up before collapsing; it would have been more practical but most likely impossible in his current frail state. Then again, maybe he did. It was just as likely that he had gotten up and found it, not having any recollection of doing so due to being barely conscious. Regardless of where the blanket had materialized from, D-boy was grateful for its warmth. He found out quite quickly that being cold and naked was not enjoyable.

Despite the hazy, sleepy blur of consciousness, there was still the underlying knowledge that he was very much Real. It was something hard to forget _any_ way you chose to look at it. He didn't have to like it though. He also didn't have to get up off the floor, even if it was uncomfortable. D-boy's new painfully thin frame didn't offer much as far as padding went, and so using his arms as a pillow kind of defied the point of making himself more comfortable. It would have probably been better to just rest his head on the thin, carpeted floorboards instead of having a gaunt forearm sticking into his face. But, as it was, D-boy was far too exhausted and weary to even consider moving to a better position; it was a minor irritation but it was bearable. Besides, he was only aware of the discomfort in the brief moments he was awake between one shallow sleep and the next, not really worth the effort.

The elder Figment, if he could still be called that, drifted stupidly into another shallow nap, vaguely wondering if he made those hideous sleeping noises people sometimes made. He was glad he wouldn't be aware of it even if he did.

When he woke up again, he noticed that there was a distinct stillness in the atmosphere.

It was quiet too. Nothing was ever this quiet.

_Wait...That noise..._

His mind was still slow and heavy due to being half-asleep, and so it took him a few moments to realize he could hear his own heartbeat. The rhythm was almost lethargic, as if it was too arduous a task for it to continue beating. D-boy listened to his internal noise for some time, lost in the regular pounding, hypnotised by the repetitive sound. Gradually, something else became trapped in the trance, weaving around the heartbeat, and he realised after an even longer while that it was his own soft breathing. Even though his chest still felt stiff and restricted, his muscles and joints throbbing dully, as he listened to his body's natural noise, none of this seemed to matter. It was somehow soothing, as if all the soreness wasn't his, that it belonged to someone else and he was just looking after it for a while.

It was okay though, someone would come back for it and then he wouldn't hurt anymore.

D-boy dreamt when sleep had defeated him. It had toyed with him, coaxing him to surrender, using his physical and emotional weaknesses to its advantage. Sleep knew D-boy was sore and aching, it knew he was drained. Sleep told him it could fix that. At the time, he couldn't distinguish whether the entire conversation was just imagined or not. Although in retrospect, D-boy concluded he had invented it or dreamt it or whatever.

Still, sleep was very persuasive either way.

_Just sleep and there won't be any more pain. _It told him in a confident voice, whispering._I can make it so you wont hurt, won't feel a thing. __You're tired. You're so tired you can't move, can't even open your eyes because they feel so heavy. Look at you. You're trying to fight me, but why? I'm not your enemy, I'm not going to harm you - I __can't__. Just __sleep__ - God knows you need to, and I don't mean this pathetic cat-napping business. __Real__ sleep. __Your body needs rest, so it can repair itself. Stop trying to fight this._

_I can't...I need- I need to..Well I'm naked for a start. I don't particularly like that._

_You really think you can get up and dress yourself when opening your eyes is too much of a challenge?_

It was rhetorical but, to defy whatever he was fighting against, D-boy forced his eyelids open. He instantly closed them again because they stung, somehow relieved that he now had an excuse to keep his eyes closed.

_Do I need to prove my point further?_

_It's not because of lack of sleep my eyes hurt, I know that much. Perhaps having them only recently shoved into my eye-sockets might be the real reason. Let's face it; I'm stuck. I can't go to sleep seeing as there's things I need to do, and I can't get up because I __physically__can't__. I...I need to find Eff. Need to get up and find him - see if he's alright. I'd rather not be alone in this._

_You can find him when you have the strength to move, surely that's logical?_

_I..._

_That's right. __I'm__ right. Just sleep and everything will be better. Forget it all and be free for a while._

_Sleep to escape..._

_That's right, my boy._

Being conscious for such a long period of time was draining. The mental argument was growing more and more one-sided and resistance was melting away into the growing hazy cloud. Sleep was saying something to him but it was lost in the thick blanket of dark mist, just incoherent background noise. Unimportant. Nothing mattered except shutting down, switching off, letting go of whatever was still tying him down.

D-boy dreamt as he lay defeated, his naked, exhausted body curled beneath the thin blanket. Looking back, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't distinguish the boundary in which sleep had ended and dreaming began. There wasn't a specific point where he realised that he had started to dream, couldn't even remember actually falling to sleep. But after recounting what he had dreamt of, D-boy reasoned it couldn't have lasted as long as it appeared, leading him to the conclusion that he had in fact slept undisturbed beforehand.

_This is..._

D-boy found himself standing upright, fully clothed, with no recollection of either getting up _or_ dressing himself. He didn't question it. There was some form of underlying knowledge that this all made sense in a surreal way. It was like D-boy was watching himself in a movie which had started halfway through, both in and out of his body at the same time. This was normal though. It was meant to be like this and made complete sense.

The elder Figment watched his body walk silently across the thin carpet. His perspective constantly alternated between hovering spectrally behind his own body, to actually being in it. It didn't really make a difference in which position he was in, he could control his body's actions either way. Even though this was perfectly simple to understand while dreaming, it would probably be far too perplexing when D-boy woke up.

_Why's it dark?_

Because it's night.

_Oh. When did that happen?_

Been like that for a while.

D-boy knew. Before the questions were even formed in his mind, he knew the answers. The knowledge was ever-present, something internal. From his point of view, that was now behind his own body, he could see himself reaching out an arm that looked far too pale, far too thin. His motions were slow; through the thickness of the dream or the darkness he wasn't sure. A skeletal hand grasped at a heavy, faux-velvet curtain, feeling the distinct texture of the fabric with the tips of his fingers, well aware of the drastic contrast between his hand and the matte black curtains. Looking round the room, D-boy noticed two things at the same time; not only did the room consist entirely of monochrome tones, he knew exactly where he was. He had never seen the room before but it was so familiar it was as if he'd been there forever. Turning his attention back to the curtains, back in first-person view, the Figment tentatively brushed back one length of the dense material, just enough to see through a crack.

He knew what he was going to see. His mind told him before his eyes even had chance to comprehend what they were looking at.

_Bricks?_

The fact that the window had been bricked up did not come as a surprise, nor did it invoke any sense of panic or need to find a way out. The window was bricked up, assumingly just like all the rest. That was fine. Still, despite there being no possible way for light to enter the room, a silvery glow _was_ coming from somewhere. Had it been always been there? D-boy wasn't sure. It bathed every edge with its shiny glimmer, the atmosphere flowing into something ethereal, magical almost, as D-boy became aware of it.

_Is it the moon?_

Yes. Of course it was the moon, he could see it now. The bricks had disappeared soundlessly, leaving a gaping hole in the wall like an ugly wound. A biting wind charged through the opening, the curtains rustling and billowing around D-boy's figure, as he looked out onto the world outside. A row of uniform houses, emotionless and hostile, stared back at him, the features distorting as the orange street lamp flickered. He was right though; the silvery light _did_ come from the moon. Satisfied, the elder Figment turned back to face the room, meeting the eyes of the younger across the room. He was thrown into his own body, as if the situation required him to deal with this event personally. Eff was standing in the doorway, slouching against it, arms folded across his chest.

_Oh. We're made of Styrofoam again._

This thought stirred nothing within D-boy, and merely accepted they had their old form back. Eff rocked forwards from the doorframe and strolled casually to meet the other, although the movement was dramatically slow; like wading in high water. Time was seemingly non-existent anyway, so it didn't matter. Not at all. A look of deep thought was on the younger Figment's face, which should have normally been unusual, but here, anything went.

"I'm cold."

"I know." Eff's expression gradually formed into a smile, and he went to close the curtains fully. In reality, this would have done nothing seeing as the wind would only blow them back again. But this was a dream and the laws of the real world didn't apply. Needless to say, the bitter breeze instantly stopped and warmth began to return. Because D-boy wanted that to happen, it did. Control. He had control here. That was good. Not turning round, Eff sighed. D-boy's perspective altered to him being outside his body again. He doubted the other was actually seeing the curtains he was focusing so intently on, judging by the distant look on his face. "The moon was nice. I bet if it explodes it'd rain silver dust everywhere. Don't you think?"

D-boy reckoned it would.

"And the stars?"

D-boy reckoned they would too.

"That's what I thought."

_We won't see them anymore when we're back in the Void._

"We won't see them anymore when we're back in the Void."

_Why did it echo?_

It took longer that it should have for D-boy to realize that it couldn't possibly have echoed; he didn't say it out loud.

"No. No, we won't." It felt compulsory to voice his agreement. At that, Eff whipped round with surprising agility, considering that, up until then, everything had been in slow motion. He advanced on the other determinedly, D-boy's mind rapidly trying to find an explanation as to what Eff was planning on doing. He searched the younger Figment's painted face for any sign of a giveaway, to no avail. Stopping just a few inches away, Eff stared intensely at him, and before D-boy could begin to ask what was going on, he found himself on the receiving end of a violent poke-fest to the face.

After the initial shock dissipated, coherent thought returned. Instead of only emitting a torrent of random noises strung together, along with the odd English word thrown in for good luck, D-boy's mouth managed to articulate a sentence eloquent enough to understand.

"What the...what are you doing!?"

Eff ceased the barrage of poking and grinned widely, his eyes recognizably mischievous. "You're naked, Psychodoughboy."

Awake. Horribly wide awake. D-boy had shot bolt upright and now his joints were screaming at him. Ignoring this, the Figment looked wildly around, trying to discern if he was in fact awake or still dreaming. His heart had been taken by surprise and was now beating furiously, wanting to escape out of his ribcage. D-boy could hear and sense the blood pounding in his head, his whole being feeling as if he had been removed from his own body then crudely thrust back in. Reaching with a shaky hand, D-boy touched his forehead with the back of his hand, surprised to find it damp with perspiration. Perspiring. That was new.

Gradually, on the whole convinced he wasn't sleeping any more, the Figment's body returned to it's normal pace. Only then did its previous tempo seem frighteningly fast. At that speed, he was afraid he might break.

_I...I __am__ naked. I should..probably fix that._

Before anything was to be done though, the act of getting up off the floor needed to be accomplished. This realization was met with the knowledge that all he now wanted to do was collapse again and sleep some more. It was strangely addictive, though that was perhaps down to feeling better after the rest.

_I can't...probably should...get up._

_Should find out if that __hole__'s alright._

_This is...real- Real. I don't like it._

D-boy placed his hands behind him, offering very little support in their shaky state. His entire body weighed far too much for his arms to support, which were on the verge of giving up and just letting the ex-pastry display fall backwards. But something told him, convincing enough to be believed, that if he sat up now, the hard part was over.

Time to attempt opening his eyes again.

With apprehension, D-boy dared to chance squinting. Thinking about it, the motion was just like moving the paint around on his previous Styrofoam face, only he could feel his eyelids gliding over the surface of his own eyes, his vision obscured by black lashes. Probably black anyway, it was hard to tell exactly at the close proximity. The Figment's stomach lurched, reminding him he had forgotten something fairly important, his body reacting to the increase of nervousness, excitement, reluctance, whatever it was.

_What do I look like?_

It was that incentive, the goal of seeing his appearance, which motivated D-boy to open his eyes. It wasn't vanity, it was curiosity.

_Does this mean I've already accepted this?_

_That...that I've given up? That I've let Eff win?_

No, that wasn't it. D-boy couldn't quite think of any specific way in which he was resisting the current situation, but that apparently didn't matter. He hid behind the excuse that there was no possible way to prevent this, no way to change the circumstances, and so there was nothing left to do but bear it. As far as he was aware of anyway. He by all means didn't have to like it or make it easy for Eff, and he intended on doing neither. But until he could figure a way out of this, things had to be endured, because no amount of sulking or resentment would change anything.

_That doesn't mean I can't._

D-boy would have smiled if it hadn't have hurt to do so. He smiled mentally instead, which was good enough. But then the present situation returned and the grin wavered, then died completely. Distinct figures were hard to make out through squinted eyes, but these things had to be done gradually, build up tolerance, acceptance. That and he was shit scared. Admitting this made D-boy feel pathetic, but there was very little chance of being degraded even more, so he opened his eyes fully, the expected sting never arriving.

The first thing he saw with his new eyes was the blanket; the one which had kept him warm and had somehow been put there without D-boy's knowledge of even doing so himself. Upon inspection, the blanket was green in colour and looked suspiciously like the ones found in hospital wards. His now long, slender fingers glided over the material -clumsy as he was used to his old mitten-like hands. He could feel the texture of the wool, actually feel, and be sure this was something real he was experiencing. Something flinched inside D-boy; sudden realization that he was _thankful _for this; grateful for being able to tell the difference between real feeling and someone's memory. It made him feel sick and self-hatred drowned him in one icy, stomach-lurching wave. At that, D-boy's objective faltered, now unsure of whether he wanted to continue in finding out his appearance.

_No. I won't like it -it's impossible._

_I can't...get distracted. I need this to stop existing - can't go back to Nowhere._

_I won't let Eff win._

The ex-Figment noticed he had closed his eyes again and snapped them open defiantly. No, after the initial...curiosity...had worn off, there would be nothing to like. There would only be flaws and imperfections and he would detest it all. Just like before. Yes, that was it. Even though their bodies were different, they were still the same; the same minds just in different containers. That was alright. D-boy had won before; he'd just win again this time.

_But it was luck no it wasn't - yes Nny shot himself accidentally no! it doesn't matter. I got what I wanted._

_Eff wont make mistakes this time, there's too much to risk. Can't rely on him to mess up like before. He won't...won't leave me any opportunity to beat him. This...so much harder than before. This isn't __Nny__ we're talking about, Eff knows __exactly__ what he's doing -at least I think so. It was almost inevitable for me to win last time, but now...it's probably equal chances._

D-boy forced himself to end this mental contemplation and focus on the task at hand; namely, getting up off the floor. His eyes trailed over the contours made in the blanket by his limbs beneath it, his gaze traveling upwards to rest on an unnaturally white arm which was draped across his lap. The other supported his weight behind him. Leaning forwards, he drew the other arm to lay alongside the other. D-boy lifted his limbs to inspect them critically, turning his hands over to leave nothing unexamined. The thing he noticed instantly was the number of prominent bruises, all in various stages of healing. A pattern of purple marks took the shape of hand marks on each wrist, indicating the places where the robotic arms had restrained him. He frowned and brushed his fingers over the bruises, a dull ache following, although D-boy made no effort to stop. In his opinion, the pain was deserved, a reminder of being Real, of not resisting enough to prevent it.

After growing used to that sensation, the Figment trailed a finger lazily up his forearm, past his elbow, around a gaunt shoulder and down to his collarbone. The touch sent a rippling shiver along his body, and he watched with mild fascination as the light hair on his arms rose. He retraced his line across the smooth skin of his collarbone to re-live the tingling prickle, shivering again. D-boy then allowed his finger to trace down his chest, trying to restrain himself finding the soft feel of his skin pleasant. His touch trickled, gently, timidly, over ribs -ribs that were far too conspicuous, the hollows between each bone deep and defined. Bruises blossomed here and there, breaking the smooth, equal colour of his skin. Some were already fading to yellow, the swelling going down, while others still contrasted harshly with tones of purple and brown. A number of clean cuts, more concentrated in the areas of contact with the mechanical arms, had also started repairing in various digress. Minor scratches were now just dark lines on the surface, while deeper ones still bore dried blood stitching the sides together like a natural glue. These received special attention from D-boy who caressed them lightly, resisting the temptation to sooth the itchiness of healing, only to break open the wounds again.

_Skin...feels good._

It was alright to admit that, wasn't it? It wasn't as if he had declared Eff had won; D-boy still detested being Real, would find a way out of this, stop existing. This was all new, different to anything he'd ever experienced, and the unfamiliarity was toying with him. He couldn't afford distractions such as this, had to remember all of these heightened sensations were just reminders of his disgusting, flawed existence.

His subconscious had seemingly failed to obey as D-boy had unknowingly embraced himself, reaching round and playing his fingers up and down his ribs. He then realized what he was doing and let out a drawn sigh, the noise sounding deep and somewhat hoarse.

_Figures._

_I doubt anyone would sound particularly nice after having a fucking...__whatever__ it was rammed down their throat._

This was more like him. This anger, hatred at everything and nothing in particular, these were things he could understand. D-boy found it unsurprisingly simple to slip back into this train of thought. He just had to maintain it, not be manipulated, survive this experiment and prove he could not be changed. Whatever happened afterwards he could deal with then, there were more important matters to attend to.

_So get up already._

The Figment surveyed his surroundings, his eyes not only trying to determine where he was, but anything that would serve as a support to help him stand. On his initial scope of the room, he found it to be a place he hadn't seen before. A large, dilapidated sofa was directly to his right, the leather worn away in some areas. Probably red or brown, it was hard to tell as the thick faux-velvet curtains had been drawn shut.

_Those..._

Reflecting upon it, D-boy concluded he had seen the curtains during one of the brief periods of consciousness, and later forgot about it.

Although a portion of the room was blocked from view by the sofa, D-boy decided there was very little being obscured. A dark wooden trunk, serving as a small table was directly in front of said furniture but was beyond reach. This didn't matter; the arm of the sofa would act as a satisfactory support when he felt ready to stand. Not yet though. Beside this was an armchair, in the same style of the sofa, and in an equally dismal condition. The elder Figment leaned slightly to one side, eyes straining to discern other objects in the dim room. A chink of light from a crack in the curtains splashed across the screen of an old fashioned television set. Already, he had no intention of ever watching it.

Once he was content with the room's various objects, he turned his attention to its layout. Overall, the room was small and a part of him questioned where it actually was in relation to the outside world.

_I'll find out later._

D-boy was able to just make out the frame of an entrance to another room. Two doors were either side, but were shut and were unwilling to reveal the secrets concealed behind them. Lying further in front of him was a small hallway which likely lead to the entrance/exit to their new residence. These would all have to be inspected in closer detail later. But now, all he had to do was get up. The rest would be simple. D-boy sighed heavily and wrapped the blanket around his lower half roughly, not yet ready to acquaint himself with that part of his anatomy just yet. It made him feel uncomfortable, now truly defined as male. At least he was beginning to see the faults now, all the horrible parts of him. It was a start.

With one hand grasping the blanket around his waist, the wool itchy against his soft, sensitive skin, he raised the other to cling onto the arm of the sofa. His arm felt heavy, wasn't used to his new body, and it was effort enough to continue holding on, fingers dug firmly into the leather. With newly made muscles, now being put to use for the first time, D-boy heaved himself off the floor, half sobbing with the exertion. His breath came in ragged gasps, his frail legs threatening to collapse under him. D-boy sat on the arm of the sofa, his heart hammering, unable to get enough air to his feeble lungs.

_I'm going to die_

After a short while, the Figment's body began to return to its normal pace, still leaving him shaking with the effort. He then managed to pull the green blanket to cover over his shoulders without too much drama, feeling sickeningly self-conscious; a feeling he had never previously felt in such a way. Before, the only time he experienced it was if he had been humiliated by Eff, but this was different. His body was the cause and D-boy wanted desperately to not be in it, more so than any other time. He hung his head, chin resting on his chest. As he did so, bangs of black hair fell forwards in front of his face and D-boy jumped at the sensation of something touching his face, his stomach lurching. Realizing what it was, the Figment tentatively removed a hand from the warmth of the blanket cloak and ran it through his hair. Long strands flowed between his fingers, his scalp tickling as it flopped back into place with a quiet swish. He repeated the motion and then teased a wisp of it around a finger. Surprisingly, it was fairly coarse and wiry and inwardly he wondered why it wasn't smooth like those people on the television commercials; he had watched them during the rare occasions when Nny fell asleep with it turned on and he had nothing better to do.

The sound of a door handle being turned snapped the Figment back to reality. There, in the doorway, stood Eff, grinning manically in a way that was always familiar whatever his form.

"Hello Sleepyhead."

_Eff..._

_You look..._

D-boy didn't know how to finish that last thought. Didn't want to.

Better to not complicate things.

"Took you long enough," Eff flashed his infamous smirk, still suiting him even now. His sarcastic tone was made even more aggravating due to the existence of vocal chords, the underlying Styrofoam squeak removed, leaving a pure sound of sheer irritation. He sounded the same, only less artificial and hollow. It was smooth, purring; young almost. Had it come from anyone else, it would have been quite pleasant to listen to. Now, the Figment had real lips to curl up, a real stare with real eyes. They were harder to meet, D-boy found himself thinking; more to hide behind them, more to say.

Painted expressions had nothing on Real ones.

"Eff...you."

God it hurt to talk. Still, even through the hoarse rasping, it was D-boy. The sound was noticeably deeper, older perhaps.

_I __am__ older I suppose..._

"You sound terrible, Psycho," there wasn't a slither of sympathy in Eff's voice. This was all _very_ amusing to him. "I _was_ beginning to wonder if you'd ever wake up. I thought you might have died, but obviously I'd gotten my hopes up."

"Holes in you!" The effort causing him to break into a fit of coughing, each one feeling like something clawing at the inside of his throat. The elder of the two leant hard against the arm of the sofa, breathing in ragged gasps. He kept a firm grip on the woolen blanket draped around him, his shaking hands making this a challenge.

It was then that it struck him; Eff was wearing clothes.

_Where did he...get those?_

They're...just like the ones painted on when we were Styrofoam.

_I don't like being naked._

D-boy frowned, unsure whether to trust his voice to work without hurting him. Meanwhile, Eff was studying him with delighted curiosity.

_I hate him so much..._"Eff...if you could refrain from staring at me like that, I'd appreciate it."

The smirk on the other's face grew to an almost impossible size. They both knew he had won, regardless of whether it was directly his achievement or not. At any rate, no matter how the conclusion had come about, they had both been made Real for the time being and that meant Eff had won.

"I see you're as eloquent as ever." Eff snickered. D-boy scowled, trying to repress the urge to retaliate, which was exactly what Eff wanted him to do. No, just let it slide, ignore it.

"Are you going to tell me where you got those?" D-boy glanced over Eff's apparel, voice tired. The desire to sleep was already a noticeable undercurrent to any other emotion he was feeling.

"I found them."

"_Where_, you shit."

D-boy's frustration only amused Eff further. He remained irritatingly silent, inspecting, analyzing; in such a way that made the elder Figment uncomfortable. Eff apparently possessed more knowledge or understanding at this point in time and therefore had an unfair advantage. D-boy had to be a good boy or he wouldn't be told anything. God, he wanted Eff to just die.

It was hard to keep eye-contact. Especially when Eff had the upper hand.

And clothes.

Eff let out a short laugh and brushed the hair out of his eyes, which gave the impression that tormenting D-boy was quite effortless. Also enjoyable.

_Sadist._

D-boy watched the other through narrowed eyes, at the same time trying to discern what colour Eff's hair was meant to be. He wasn't sure why it was so pressing to see their new forms, but the urgency was there. The only thing which came close to describing how it felt was when he couldn't be sure whether Nny was actually going to kill himself this time. It was that uncertainty, the prospect of something new, different, happening. It was the sort of change he could tolerate. It was the sort of change which had 50 chance of being for the better, a considerably higher chance than anything else.

He decided it was either light brown or dirty blonde. It wasn't just the poor light that made it so difficult to tell; D-boy's vision was still blurred slightly, his eyes not completely healed.

"You look cold, Psychodoughboy." Eff's teasing voice cut through the other's contemplation.

_"I'm cold."_

"I know."

Fragments of the dream swirled around in D-boy's consciousness, then evaporated without being acknowledged or missed.

"Can you walk?"

D-boy shook his head, his hair tickling the back of his neck from the movement. That would get annoying quickly.

"Wait there then."

The other made an attempt to stand up, regretting it immediately afterwards. He sank heavily back onto the arm of the sofa, defeatedly. "Where are you going?" 

Eff halted, glancing over his shoulder, his face one of mock concern. "Why, will you _miss me_?"

_Fuck you._

_Fucking __holes__ in you._

"As a matter of fact, my boy, I'm going to fetch you some clothes. Personally, you look revolting naked."

This new found civility perished instantly.

"Shit on you! Holes in you Fuck! Holes right through you!" D-boy's voice broke horribly as the pitch escalated. Meanwhile, Eff never flinched throughout the other's verbal onslaught, remaining abnormally composed. D-boy began to cough violently again, the effort bringing tears to his eyes, his throat screaming. This wasn't fair. Why make the wound deeper? They both knew the younger Figment had won, yet it still felt like Eff had to prove this, or make it a significant win. He was the victor and was taking full advantage of it. Couldn't really blame him, was sure he'd do the same thing should the roles be reversed. Although, he was getting much less than what he expected.

"I'll be right back."


	8. Progress

I can't apologize enough for not updating in so long (I tried to make this chapter longer to make up for it). I just can't seem to motivate myself, but hopefully I'll be able to now that things will actually happen.

Because I'm so giddy at having finally finished, there's still things I'll no doubt need to sort out (most likely with the previous chapter too - damn continuity!), so bear with me on that. Any help with my appalling grammar would be appreciated too.

Like I said on my profile, I'll be going back and editing previous chapters, though I'll still start writing Chapter 9.  
Okay, enough rambling. Enjoy.

* * *

_"I'll be right back." _

Something told D-boy that Eff's comment required some sort of retaliation on his part, but the wiring between his brain and mouth seemed to have short-circuited along the way. So he resorted to the next best thing which happened to be glaring at the back of the other's head, although _why_ he had taken offence was apparently irrelevant.

_Just 'cause._

D-boy let out a shaky sigh, though not for any specific reason. He didn't like the feel of his chest rising and falling as he did so, xylophone ribs brushing against his forearms, the bones shifting and settling back into place. It felt so unnatural, but it couldn't have been any further from the truth. Bodies were meant to do that. Real bodies were nothing but corpses without all of the disgusting necessities of breathing and accumulating waste and all the other superfluous shit which defined someone as "real". Just choosing what aspects of living one wanted and discarding the rest…it didn't work like that. You had to take it all or have nothing.

Not that D-boy had that choice, so that particular train of thought derailed and proceeded to catch fire and maybe some of the passengers were trapped on the inside and…

_Where was I going with this?_

The former pastry display stand wanted to rub his eyes, but didn't dare risk making them sting again. That could be avoided whenever possible. But the longer he sat on the arm of the sofa, the more aware he became that not one part of his body didn't hurt or ache one way or another. It was to be expected, really; with a transformation on such a scale as his, discomfort was standard procedure.

It eventually occurred to D-boy that he was shivering; it was hard to tell when exactly _that_ had started, but it didn't really matter, despite being somewhat unnerving as to how it could have gone unnoticed for any length of time. Maybe he thought too much. Thinking of anything should have been out of the question –if not impossible- after the abuse his mental and physical self had endured not long ago. Had it been not long ago? It was hard to say how long he'd been in out of sleep for and that was indeed a concern. The ex-figment made a face and forced himself to stop that thought before it had chance to develop. Now was not the time for hypothetical bullshit. He could worry about this later, when he was more capable. Being half awake, possibly with concussion and/or internal bleeding, in a body which seriously needed tending to and not to mention being _naked_…was not a fit state to form theories in.

_Where the buggery is Eff? If he doesn't hurry the fuck up with these clothes he's supposedly gone to get..._

_Shit, I don't know._

D-boy drew the blanket up around his shoulders as it has slipped off at some point. The less he could see of this hideous, squishy container, the better.

Absently, he wondered if he'd ever get used it; the internal noise of his body, the shifting of bones underneath his skin, the rush of air in and out of his lungs as he breathed…He was going to take a chance and assume_ that_ answer would be "no". Of course, D-boy was not the one to actively search for the positive side of anything. The more flaws he could find, the easier it would be to sink back under the surface of despair, each imperfection another weight dragging him down. _The water's warm; it's fine, come on in!_ Stay a while. Feel the comforting, familiar sensation of it seeping through skin and bone and whatever the fuck else and drown in it. Here was safety, as was anywhere which offered something understandable and well-known.

This was better.

Old habits. Fortunately for him, D-boy still found it easy to slide back into regular thought patterns. Despite being in a different container, he was still _Psychodoughboy_. That at least, was something –if not the only thing- to be thankful for.

"Come the fuck _on_, Eff, I'm freezing!" Still sounded hoarse. Still hurt to exercise his vocal chords.

Had he felt cold in his old body? Sometimes it felt like it, but that was impossible without nerves, receptors to detect temperature stimulation…Johnny had felt it; that skinny bastard barely had anything covering his fucking skeleton, and that wasn't mentioning the threadbare clothes he was accustomed to wearing. Nevertheless, Johnny had felt cold, warmth, pain, everything which a living organism should and all that D-boy felt were the _after-effects_, not the initial feeling. Although the Figment was unable to experience anything physical, patterns in mental processes became attached to various stimuli. If Johnny had been too warm or cold, the feeling of discomfort would follow hand in hand. Similarly, pain invoked anger, regret, and it was these things D-boy felt, therefore linking these feelings to the physical source.

From another area of their house (_…house? Apartment? Where the hell are we?_), Eff's fainter reply reached him, "Shit on you!"

He was sure he was cold now. There was the discomfort; the urge to increase body temperature. A draft from some part of the room was playing on his skin, and this new physical dimension made just about every experience massively intense compared to those in his Styrofoam form. At least one of them would be enjoying this.

D-boy reckoned he wouldn't get used to the other's voice. Or his own. A voice makes up an identity just as much as appearances or names, and without the squeaky Styrofoam edge to their old ones, it just wasn't the same. There wasn't a great deal of their original forms left, and being anything different was not preferable and something that should be avoided and fought all the way. If D-boy was anything but depressing, then he was _not_ Psychodoughboy. If he wasn't himself then who-

"Here."

Clothes were roughly thrust into his chest, the force causing numerous cuts and bruises to make sure their presence was known and not forgotten. His heart was pounding again and D-boy wished it would stop because he had already started to hate the feeling of something moving inside his body. Too much sensation wasn't good for a heart that had been newly forced into a person's chest cavity.

He turned the bunches of fabric over with slender fingers of one hand (the other still had a firm grip of the blanket), which ached without any real conviction, due to their practically unused state. Had to wear his body in, loosen the stiff mechanics. D-boy was pleased that his shirt still displayed the word **FUCK** on it, and resembled his old painted body. That was good. It wasn't the same, but still offered what familiarity it could; like watching a movie in a different language.

_Nny never let us watch movies. He hated television._

_Is there a TV here?_

It really didn't matter right now.

D-boy turned his attention back onto the clothes, while Eff watched with mild fascination, his gaze alternating between the other's expression and movements of examining the various articles of clothing. He'd also found some boots, evidently, as the hard rubber soles were now tapping rhythmically on the carpeted floor.

_Always has to be doing something. Can't stand still for a minute._

At least it was something to focus on.

"Have you just tried this on?" The slight warmth radiating from the shirt- not to mention being inside out- had that suspicious air of clothing being hastily removed -like when you got blood on them and happened to have a complete abhorrence to bodily fluids.

The rhythm faltered slightly but regained pace, almost unnoticeably.

"Yep."

"And why might that have been?"

_Tap, tap, tap_

Eff smirked, his face suiting the expression perfectly, annoyingly so, "Because, my boy, I've always been pissed off that Nny painted "fuck" on you and not me –it's my name for Christ's sake!"

True, it would have made more sense the other way round, regarding their paint jobs, but D-boy couldn't really offer an explanation on that one. Perhaps the painting had been done before the Styrofoam display stands were infused with their voices. In any case, it was too long ago and insignificant to be remembered.

However, Psycho now found himself trying desperately not to imagine the words "property of" scrawled above the expletive.

_Tap, tap_

"Why are you so able to move around, anyway?" That's better.

Eff's rhythm faltered and the beat stopped. The younger Figment broke away from his day-dream.

"Hm?"

_Can he ever pay attention longer than thirty seconds? Fuck, I hate repeating myself_

D-boy frowned. And repeated himself, adding an explanation seeing as Eff's blank stare indicated that it required one.

"…I feel like shit but you seem to be perfectly fine. Even after…" Didn't know how to finish that sentence.

"Do you know how long you were asleep for, my boy?"

"I know _you_ aren't going to tell me." This coaxed a grin from the other. _Asshole_.

"Mm. Well, while you were neither in nor out of it, I was getting used to this upgrade of a body. At first I was just like you are now, of course, but _I_ am in charge of this sack." Eff threw his arms out for dramatic emphasis, then thrust his hands into the back pockets of his trousers. "I forced myself to get up –it's a shame for you that you missed out on seeing _that_ spectacle- wouldn't allow myself to stop moving until everything stopped screaming. And my _god_, D-boy, I made _toast_!"

Eff always did love smiles that made people nervous. He ought to be careful otherwise that fucking grin would stretch right off his face.

"You should try it, Psycho. Motherfucking toast!" His eyes widened, his voice straining to go so high. D-boy wondered whether Eff was on the verge of orgasm at the thought of being able to make toast whenever they pleased. He sniggered.

Just as suddenly as this particular manic episode started, Eff stopped abruptly. This never failed to make D-boy uneasy, as if the other's unpredictability could ever have been forgotten.

"…Eff?"

Somehow, being Real made it that much more frightening.

Eff's eyes flickered rapidly, slightly narrowed, his breathing shallow and alarmingly fast. Was he hyperventilating? Had the stupid fucker pushed his weak body too far, too soon?

_Shit._

"Eff, what-?" D-boy was denied from finishing his query into the other's wellbeing as Eff had snapped out of his daze and grabbed his wrists, forcing the elder's hands onto his chest. The initial instinct was to stop touching immediately, the pulses of pain confirming this reaction to be appropriate, but struggling only seemed to make it worse and his wrists burned.

"Let go! What the fuck are you doing!?"

D-boy hissed as Eff tightened his grip, just to drive the point home that resisting was useless.

"Eff! What're you-" The extra strain of shouting caused another fit of violent coughing, which made D-boy's eyes water and his throat feel like it had been lacerated. Kind of had, really.

"Can you feel it? Stop moving! Can you? There- _there_!"

D-boy allowed himself to calm down, and not just because the continuous effort had his joints begging him to. And then he felt it. Feather-light, but it was there; the steady beating of a heart, thudding, struggling against Eff's ribcage. D-boy could feel the constant rhythm even through the fabric of Eff's shirt, skin and beneath bone, his fingertips hovering lightly to feel the internal mechanism, could feel the rise and fall of Eff's breathing, the shift in the other's bones –which were not dissimilar to his own- and the interlacing heartbeat that kept everything in time.

When Eff spoke, D-boy could even feel the resonating vibrations of his voice.

"So can you?"

_I don't like it. I don't want to feel it. Eff's the one with the penchant for heart beats, not me._

"Let me go."

"_Can_ you?"

"Let me go, now."

"_Psycho_, you piece of _shit_! Can you feel it!?"

The pace was terrifyingly fast now, D-boy could feel the other's heart crashing inside his chest and god, it was horrifying. It would break, it fucking would. It was identical to his own –off time, sometimes synchronizing for a few pulses, falling back out of rhythm again, but nevertheless, identical. In an obscure way, it was like them; marching to their own pace, but occasionally, the beats would accidentally collide and sound simultaneous, whether they were aware of it or not. Most likely not.

"Yes."

For reasons unknown to even himself, D-boy had resorting to avoiding looking at the person before him, as if that would somehow regard this situation as being acceptable. An outward show of internal discomfort, perhaps. Embarrassment. But without the visual sense, this only magnified the sense of touch, and so was a complete failure on D-boy's part.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Eff kept the other's hand pressed against his ribs, resolutely; the consistent intake and expulsion of air weaving its way into the body's elegy. D-boy couldn't help but follow the notes, learn them, memorize them, sing along. The vinyl record was skipping because someone had gone and got fucking fingerprints on the surface and no one was there to take the needle off.

Take the needle off and stop the noise.

The younger boy emitted a sound that was uncannily like a purr, had a cat been previously made of Styrofoam, and then had real vocal chords driven down its throat. And then purred.

D-boy took this opportunity to wrench his hand free, compelling Eff to be shaken from his state of semi-hypnosis. The now blond-haired Figment did a quick glance around the room to re-establish where he was, then shot a smirk at D-boy as his presence was remembered.

"You'd better get used to it, my boy." His hands settled on his hips, in such a way that stated Eff had discovered narcissism.

_I daresay he's already found his bloody dick._

Dark eyes met light in a venomous sideways glance. "Is that so. Tell me, Fuck, are you purposefully being a simple bastard, or are you actually that naïve?"

Eff grinned, unfazed, and this lack of reaction grated on D-boy a great deal more than it should have warranted. On the rare occasions Eff mustered what little self-control he possessed to deny the other such satisfaction, he nearly always won the argument. However, neither seemed too concerned with making the effort as far as arguing went, and cheap-shots took preference as it was far easier to do so, despite it being slightly monotonous. D-boy at least was thankful for the respite, and found himself feeling relieved that Eff had chosen not to retaliate seeing as he doubted he'd be able to hold his own in a battle of wit in his current state.

In this brief interlude, where both Figments (or rather, _ex_-Figments) had nothing to say, D-boy took this opportunity to get a better grasp of his surroundings, now that the haze of sleep and/or concussion was beginning to lift. One of the two interior doors was now open a little; Eff had gone this way to get clothes and left it open, and now a strip of artificial light trickled through the gap onto an unattractive, bruise-coloured carpet (D-boy could probably match the hue perfectly with one of his own). It still managed to illuminate a good deal of the room, although Eff apparently hadn't the initiative to turn the rest on. Apart from that single band of light, there didn't appear to be any other form of illumination, but D-boy was wary about having retinas to now take into consideration and didn't particularly want to blind himself.

From another area of their accommodation, a faint hum was just about audible and the elder of the two decided it belonged to a refrigerator. Somewhere closer, to his right, came the ticking of a clock and this caused the question of what time it was to resurface. It certainly seemed dark enough to be well into the night, but with such thick curtains, it was hard to tell accurately, or if it was even dark outside at all.

The house already smelt like toast.

Burnt toast to be more specific.

During D-boy's general scope of their new environment, Eff was seemingly enraptured by a loose thread on the end of his shirt sleeve. He was humming too.

It was with genuine disappointment that Psychodoughboy had to break this rare silence.

"I'd rather not be naked any more, Eff. So are you going to fuck off, or…_show_ me to somewhere else I can get changed?"

'Show', of course, conveniently replaced the word 'help', even though they both knew that it would be unlikely D-boy had the energy to make it three feet without any form of assistance –not including the fact his joints still seared and hissed in protest with every movement. Eff managed to pry himself away from the remarkable fascination of his already-fraying sleeve to be reminded once again of D-boy's existence.

"Well, your room has a lock." Eff answered nonchalantly.

_What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

The younger boy took D-boy's scowl to be interpreted as indignation; that he'd gone and assigned rooms without asking for the other's opinion and whether that was alright with him, and you know, they could swap if he wanted to.

"It's not my fault you weren't awake!" Defensive, but it wasn't said with any real conviction. "Besides, I wanted the room with the window facing out onto the road – you should see how high up we are Dee!"

_…how high up? So we aren't in a house like the one I dreamt of?_

_Where the fuck are we!?_

"…yours just faces onto the back of some shitty housing estate-"

D-boy interrupted Eff's mindless noise-making, evidently not sharing the other's interest in his one-sided conversation.

"Eff! That's really fascinating, but what do you mean 'how high up'? Where _are_ we?"

Mr. Eff was not impressed with this interruption, and sighed shortly, as if he was being made to explain something very simple to an ignorant child. Honestly, some people. Nonetheless, the blonde's sulking was short lived, as he now had centre-stage and could demonstrate further that he was more aware of their standing in the overall scheme of things. Or whereabouts they were, at any rate. He grinned (it was hard to determine whether it was more out of spite or mischief), and strode over to where the faux-velvet curtains were situated, behind the armchair. D-boy noted that Eff walked with a slight limp in his right leg –no doubt even he wasn't fully healed from the ordeal- and this made him feel a little better, even if it was childish. The knee of his uninjured leg rested upon the soft cushioning of the armchair, maroon leather creaking as the fabric adjusted to take his weight, while the other rested out of harm's way on the carpet. It seemed unbelievable to D-boy that Eff's body even made a dent on the furniture due to the younger's (and, most likely, his own) delicate looking, waif-like figure -but he certainly knew better than to assume Mr. Eff as being anything other than coiled springs and sharp edges and was most certainly not delicate.

Slender fingers had replaced Styrofoam mitten-like hands, and they clutched at fistfuls of the heavy curtain material, peeling them apart.

One hand remained bundled in the fabric- the other gripped the back of the armchair for support. Eff turned round to face his companion of sorts, with a satisfied half-smile upon his face, "See? We've got to be on at least the thirteenth floor."

D-boy grinned genuinely, "Apartments don't have a thirteenth floor."

This was acknowledged with an eye-roll from the blonde, "Whatever. Just come and look"

From his current position, the dark-haired Figment could only discern that it was, indeed, dark outside – although the exact time remained elusive. Couldn't see any stars from this far away either; it had been quite a while since he had seen them last, and wouldn't mind viewing them again because they were one of the very few pleasantries of existence he was ready to admit to liking. D-boy reckoned they'd be the things he missed most when everything stopped- although really, that was a contradiction.

It could be summed up nicely in one word –the reason why D-boy found himself sighing and bracing for the pain which would undoubtedly ensue:

Curiosity.

Psychodoughboy was curious, and in the rarest of rare behaviours, he allowed it.

It was alright to show interest in one's new surroundings, wasn't it? Not out of hope to find something likable in being Real (stars didn't count, apparently, as he'd always liked them), and nor did it signify his surrender and acceptance of this fate he'd found himself in. It was _just to see_. For now at least, his current mood told him that shutting himself away would not change a thing, would not make this all go away, and so for D-boy to ignore it all would be remarkably pointless and unrealistic. So why not seize the moment in hope of better understanding this mess? Of course, he could choose to pick it apart later, when his prevailing depression took root again – let it serve as a reminder –as the effigy- of precisely why he'd rather be nothing. But right now, he was curious. And he wanted to see.

"Hurry up!" Eff's high-pitched voice was one of excited impatience, despite D-boy doubting that the view outside wouldn't suddenly fuck off no matter how long he took, and made sure to express this opinion. Eff pulled his eyelid down and stuck his tongue out- although the elder Figment hadn't a clue what it meant, and assumed he'd seen it on a cartoon show he'd managed to watch.

_Whatever._

D-boy made a mental note to throw the TV out of the window his comrade was now urging him to look out of. With this, the elder Figment reaffirmed his grip on the blanket around him and used his free hand to ease himself up off the sofa arm.

At once, his knee and elbow joints began to sear at the effort being exerted up them, and through the cloud of pain, D-boy wondered if Eff had been right to start moving as soon as possible, because sitting down had caused his joints and sockets and ligaments and muscles to grow stiff and had probably made it worse for himself. Even though his initial reaction was to sit back down again, the dark-haired youth acknowledged he'd only have to get back up again and repeat the process. His knees audibly cracked, although this did very little to relieve the rigidity, and he hissed through bared teeth as he straightened his spine – each disc grinding into place with a fiery sting.

And so D-boy stood properly for the first time in his new form.

However, this small accomplishment went largely unnoticed by the elder Figment who was currently focusing the better half of his attention on not collapsing in a heap or having a stroke. His eyes were shut tightly to form an anguished frown, and could distantly hear his own breath hitch occasionally on a faint sob.

"Come on, Psycho." It could almost be seen as encouragement, had it not for his following comment: "Jesus Christ, you look like an old man!"

"Fffuck. Holes in you, you s-sadistic piece of shit."

_Endure it. Pain is…just… nerve stimulation._

Eff laughed uproariously when D-boy stubbed his foot on the leg of the makeshift coffee table.

After a furious string of expletives in highly creative combinations, the vast journey from the sofa to the armchair continued.

_If I've gone and broke my fucking toe, I'll make sure I break the rest from ramming my foot up his ass._

It was incentive enough to keep D-boy putting one foot in front of the other, barely lifting them off the floor in preference of a shuffling technique that lessened the ache on his knees. By using this method, D-boy was eventually able to graze the armchair with his fingertips, and then the palm of his hand, and then allowed his forearm to take his weight and drag himself onto the arm – finally allowing himself to sit down. Sobbing and sweating and shaking, the former pastry display stand could do nothing but concentrate on getting enough air into his fragile lungs and hope that his vision stopped swimming sometime soon. His whole skeleton felt like it was tearing itself apart inside his skin – that in itself seeming like the only barrier that was actually keeping it in place. He could still feel the sensation of where the bones had grated against each other, forced into operation while still raw.

"So good of you to join me."

"You hole." It was the best insult D-boy could manage in his current state, the words trembling as he spoke them, all but a whisper. However, it only served to make Eff grin all the wider- pupils small islands in a ring of amber (not quite like his red, painted ones on his old body, but equally as piercing). D-boy hadn't thought that the moon and streetlamps below and whatever other lights dominated the night would have been bright enough to contract pupils like that, but admittedly, the former Voice of Despair wasn't well versed in the understanding of human anatomy.

_What's my eye colour?_

_I'll check later. Or should I ask Eff?_

_…I'll check later._

As the pain in his joints receded to a dull ache, D-boy allowed himself to steal glances at the other from under cover of hair hanging in front of his face – a quick glimpse as he scratched the side of his nose. Although he couldn't see the moon itself, the silvery light reflected off it from a distant sun pooled into the room, first flowing over the Voice of Insanity. In addition to this, the sickly orange glow emitted from artificial lighting from the city? town? below lit the underside of his features, giving him a frighteningly surreal appearance.

He'd definitely appreciate that.

_"I bet if it explodes it'd rain silver dust everywhere. Don't you think?_

_Yes._

_And the stars?_

_Those too."_

Fortunately, Eff had turned away again and was now far too enraptured with the outside world to notice D-boy's reluctantly curious gaze upon him. He probably knew anyway, though. Eff was like that; he'd act unassuming until he caught you off guard in an ambush attack you couldn't escape. Psycho had to give him some credit – the elder Figment would prefer to be more direct and immediately tell the other to _piss the fuck off_ if he was doing something irritating. But that wasn't really relevant, was it? Because Eff was undoubtedly drunk on the knowledge he was being stared at –hardly find the act irritating at all.

_Egotistical wanker._

D-boy felt brave enough to look outside. So, bracing himself, he allowed his body to slide further up the maroon arm of the worn chair and couldn't be sure whether it was his bones making the creaking or the leather. In turn, Eff retreated to perch on the opposite corner of the chair's back, to allow the other space - actually, that was quite considerate of him. The effort of using his muscles to lift his weight onto the slightly higher dais of furniture was enough to cause them to sear in protest. Thankfully, the distance was minimal and D-boy could rest once more, already panting at the effort, and trying hard not to exert himself further in order to make his position more comfortable. It would do.

Eff had a stupid little grin sketched on his stupid face, and it really didn't suit him. He looked like that sort of content and dewy eyed that can only ever be accomplished whilst being high or intoxicated. D-boy imagined that exact look could be found on most idiotic teens who had ever hopelessly stared at someone who they had no chance whatsoever of being with and they were probably a complete dick anyway, but that was beside the point because those idiotic teens couldn't see the flaws – or disregarded them even if they did and Eff was talking to him

_Wait, what?_

"Hm?"

Another eye-roll from the blonde. Heh, blonde. Now _that_ was amusing. "I said 'what do you think?'"

"About what?"

The younger Figment jabbed a finger at the pane of glass, "That?"

D-boy now directed his attention to stare past the glass that separated them from outside, feeling somewhat like a child with ADD - although that, really, was Eff's field of expertise (and quite likely actually afflicted with). In the transparent barrier, he could see a vague reflection of his own face , but the light was too dim for the image to be of any use in regards to finding out his appearance, and so cupped a hand against the window to erase it and achieve a better view.

Eff had been right; they _were_ high up. It gave the ex-Figment a momentary sense of vertigo, his stomach knotting horribly. But as he continued to peer down at the pavement below, the uneasy feeling subsided. On first inspection, D-boy concluded that they were indeed in an apartment – possibly on the outskirts of a modestly-sized town, judging from the buildings in the dark surrounding area – their lights like neon orange stars in distant concrete. It'd be easier to tell when it was light, although that didn't seem likely for a good while yet. Another apartment block wasn't far from their own –looking at it gave a more accurate measure of just how high their own room was, and D-boy could only see two rooms with lights on out of those he could see on the side of the building facing him. Beneath them, a main road ran parallel with the window the pair were gazing out of, it's path lit by streetlamps spewing a nauseous orange-yellow coloured light on the concrete pavement. It looked like it had been raining at some point; the surface was slick and splinters of orange and yellow and silver glinted off the wet.

D-boy couldn't see the moon at this angle, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed about this.

No stars either.

_Maybe it's cloudy. Maybe the moon's too high and I've missed it._

_I would like to see them again. I can admit to liking them –they're unbiased, neutral in this little experiment._

_Neither something to hate, nor something to convince me into enjoying being Real._

_Because I really, really don't want that._

Eff whispered, not wanting to break the illusion he was obviously under, "Well?"

The younger Figment was pressed so close to the pane of glass, his words left a pale mist of condensation. Which he quietly drew a smiley face in, using his index finger.

"I think it's hideous."

"Of course you do." Didn't sound completely there. "I don't though. I think it's beautiful." Probably wasn't. His voice was mellow, and it sounded so unnatural coming from Eff who was always crashing into one form of mania or another – sometimes furious, sometimes like an ecstatic child, but never sedate as he looked now. D-boy couldn't even recall a time that he'd been so calm as long as he'd known the other – and that was since forever ago. But had one never met Eff before, or had any inclination about his _dysfunctional _(this was becoming to be D-boy's favourite word to lend in description of the other) state of mind, his current physical appearance strongly suggested that it was anything but calm or sedate or mellow. Most mentally sound people didn't have a mass of blonde hair sticking up in such a way they seemed to have not long since been electrocuted, along with such sharp amber eyes that just _dared _you to fuck or fight him, and not forgetting a smile that served to make people nervous.

Although, should one have the displeasure of actually meeting the so-called Voice of Insanity, just how unstable his frame of mind was would be apparent after less than three minutes in his company. However, this would all but serve as an ego-trip to a being whose favourite past-time (aside from toast making) was seeing vital things from a person come out.

D-boy supposed the novelty of this whole mess, under the name of "living", would pass eventually, as Eff never had been known for his attention span. D-boy also supposed Eff was inclined to try and experience as much of being "real" in as little time as possible.

"It sucks for you that this all has to end, then." Passive-aggressive. Arguing _just 'cause_.

Eff stubbornly refused to look at the other, instead preferring to remain gazing at the view, as if he wanted to memorize it all. Perhaps he did. "Do you think that I can't influence you, Psychodoughboy?"

"Don't call me that." Eff let out a short noise of satisfaction from his nose, a slight smirk drifting idly –out of habit- across his face. "Do you really think you _can_? I'd like to take the opportunity to remind you that _I won_."

"Holes in you. You won because of an accident, and you know it. I was so close –Nny was going to turn the gun off when it happened!" This time, Eff did look at him, his face contorted into a scowl, but it lifted almost as soon as it had appeared. "But it doesn't matter, because we're Real now. I can make toast whenever I want and I'll just work extra hard on my manipulation of you and hey- you have a scar on your face- neat!"

"I do? Where?"

D-boy brushed his fingertips across his face in a random sweep, only to have it batted away by the other, who then proceeded to poke him in the temple. "There!" The blonde then dragged his finger, with more pressure than what was required, in a line down the side of D-boy's nose –stopping just above his lips. Warily, the elder Figment placed his own fingers to where Eff had determined the "starting point" and was surprised to find that there was, in fact, a raised line of skin, and repeated the trail to where it ended.

Suddenly, Eff was all but screeching with riotous laughter, holding his sides and a look of despair upon his face at his inability to stop. D-boy glared at his younger companion and demanded to know what this was all about and would he shut the fuck up already before he woke people up or something. However, Eff's hysterics continued for at least another half a minute, until, sobbing and wiping his eyes, he simmered down enough to explain.

His breathing was still erratic, a few giggles of laughter escaping, "You k-know what that's from, don't you?"

D-boy's raised eyebrow translated as: no, but you better fucking tell me soon you little shit.

"It's from when Nny stabbed you in the face and pinned you to the wall!"

The latter half of his sentence was spoken so fast and broken with uncontrollable shrieks of laughter, it was almost incomprehensible and took a few moments for D-boy to replay it in his mind to decipher it. When he finally did make sense of it, the former Voice of Despair emitted an infuriated growl, not caring in the slightest that it scratched at his throat to do so, and swung a fist to collide with the other's jaw and oh fuck did it ever feel good.

Eff hissed as his head whipped round, following the motion of the other's fist. Utter shock turned to rage, and the blonde's hands curled into fists, his entire body stiffening like a coiled spring.

D-boy braced himself for the inevitable retribution, knowing full well he hadn't gotten used to his body enough to be able to counter it.

Only the retaliation wasn't physical.

"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK, PSYCHO!?"

"That felt _marvellous_."

Eff's expression of indignation was priceless, and D-boy smirked broadly in triumph. "That was my _fucking face_! Since when have you ever resorted to fist-fights anyway!?"

"Since it could actually hurt you."

The elder Figment made no attempt to conceal the smug look sliding onto his features.

The blonde let out a squeal of rage and launched his entire body at the other, the collision and momentum sending the pair hurtling backwards over the arm of the chair. D-boy cried out as his limbs and joints were involuntarily forced into movement, though could only release a hoarse whisper as the impact with the floor caused his chest muscles to constrict around his ribcage. This fall would have been retribution enough, as the darker haired youth lay gasping air through gritted teeth, blanket just managing to preserve whatever remaining dignity he had left.

Unfortunately, Eff disagreed.

Despite the fact he was probably in just as much pain, Eff managed to stagger to his knees, panting and snarling, then once again threw himself at his rival. It only seemed natural that he was as crude in his fighting technique as his language- although with this violent, ineloquent mindset, there was no denying its productiveness. Always straight to the point. In the same display of adrenalin-blinded thought, D-boy ignored the screaming in his bones and tried desperately to fend off his attacker. It was all in vain, however, as Eff clearly had the upper hand – he'd not only had more time for convalescence, but he also had the advantage in regards to their positions; namely, he was above the other with a knee either side of him.

How familiar.

_I really fucking suck at fighting. This is twice now that this has happened –this exact same thing! Okay; we were both Styrofoam the first time, back in the Void. But are we really this predictable? This set into our reactions?_ The other felt a twinge of disgust for an instant._ How did I not see this happening? Am I that blind – are we both- so that we can't even conceive acting any differently? Is-_

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

D-boy's internal conflict ended abruptly as a result of having Eff's fist connect roughly with his face –managing to hit the targets of both his mouth and nose at once. His eyes watered and felt the metallic taste of blood trickle into his mouth, undecided and uncaring at which injured facial feature was the source. And how the fuck did he know it was blood in the first place!? They'd never tasted blood, or anything for that matter. But that was the least of Psychodoughboy's concerns.

Trying to ignore the thick cloud of pain that was spreading across his face, D-boy clamped a hand on Eff's face in an attempt to force himself free –perhaps gouge an eye with any luck. But they were torn away by the wrist and slammed into the carpet, continuing to be held in the places that had last been restrained by mechanical hands. The pressure on his bruised skin forced D-boy to hiss something indistinguishable, indecisively wanting to be free and at the same time not cause the other's grip to tighten.

_Get off get of let go pl- no I'm not begging just let go_

Eff had a frightening look on his face. Of course it was manic, but it was more than that; something with more focus than simple madness. Revelling in his superiority, his dominance over someone weaker…it was absolutely predatory.

The blonde grinned, both boasting and unpredictable at the same time. Something only he could accomplish.

D-boy simply glared, dripping despise with every shred of his being. Discomfort broke his steeled expression on occasion, knowing full well the other wouldn't miss these falters no matter how hard he tried to kill them.

"How many more times do I have to beat you before you just give it up, Psychodoughboy?"

"Holes in you, you fuck."

"You really are a sore loser, you know that? It's such an ugly quality to have."

_Like your _face_. Oh god, that was childish, even for our standards._

"It's a good thing I don't give a shit then, isn't it?" Defiance. Even though the initial impetus of the argument was totally unrelated to the current subject of debate, this felt more familiar; something that they could endlessly debate about and go round in circles and repeat and contradict themselves, and still never gain ground, but it was _familiar_. And in such a foreign situation, it was a safe place to retreat to. "When you find everything ugly, it's hardly an insult."

Eff adopted a look of mock sadness, playing along, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it. "Poor Psycho. That's terrible. It must be simply _awful_ to regard everything as 'ugly'. _Nothing_, my boy, is 'ugly' and I assure you that I wouldn't lie about that. It's all about perspective, you see, and mine is more accurate than yours as you are nothing but a pessimist, so biased by default."

"You'll always lie, Fuck. You wouldn't _dare_ be honest with me –can't afford to let your guard down, so don't give me that shit. And I'm biased? By that logic, so are you – constantly looking for the pleasantries to being Real, lest you find something hideous to spoil your precious illusion."

Instantly, Eff stiffened and radiated that the situation was lingering on turning dangerous. The air was crackling again with tension, and for a moment, both ex-Figments stared each other down, positively daring the other to act first. Subconsciously –or otherwise, Eff's grip on D-boy's wrists increased and caused him to inhale sharply, much to Eff's satisfaction.

The younger of the two then leaned closer, the distance between reduced to more than a few inches. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from the other's face, take in the other's scent of burnt toast and Styrofoam.

"I'll always win, Psycho. Always."

D-boy kneed him squarely in the balls. "Fuck you," he spat, while Eff yelped and half-fell to get out of range. D-boy pushed himself by his elbows, reaffirming his purchase on the blanket, and took this to indicate that their brawl had ended. Now that the heat of the so-called battle was dying, pain had taken to rush in and fill the empty space. With any luck though, the previous amount of movement had served to loosen up his joints some –if that was any consolation.

Both were breathing heavily; granted- Eff's being more laboured, broken by short groans and drawn-out sighs after just recently having his crotch assaulted by D-boy's knee.

"You piece of shit," hissed the younger boy under his breath. The elder grinned victoriously, completely unconcerned with being responsible for causing such an injury. If anything, that was the biggest reason for his grin, rather than 'winning' the actual fight. 'Winning' being a loose term, as all he'd really served to do was defend himself appropriately from an almost certain beating.

_Isn't that the same thing?_

Somehow, D-boy knew it wasn't.

"Eff."

"What?" That simple word overflowed with undeniable hatred.

"Would you kindly get the fuck out so I can change? I've had quite enough of being naked."

"You bastard."

Nevertheless, Eff, with one hand still grasping his groin, picked himself up shakily from the floor and staggered towards the door from which came the refrigerator humming sound. He didn't glance back once, and in an action worthy of a sulking teenager, slammed the door shut with window-rattling force.

D-boy reached above his head to grip the soft arm of the sofa, seeing as it was now the closest item of furniture to him after falling backwards off the chair. Accepting, rather than ignoring, the ache in his bones, D-boy raised his now heavy body to lean against the edge of the leather sofa, and scanned the room to relocate his pile of clothes. There. Gingerly, and using the back of the sofa as a suitable rail, he made his way to the opposite arm. With only the briefest of glances towards the door Eff had retreated behind, the Voice of Despair allowed the blanket to fall to his feet and finally take his first glance at his new container.

_Hideous._

_It doesn't look right, doesn't feel right. My legs are too long and as for _that…_I have nothing to say about _that_._

After much difficulty with the enormous feat of putting on the lower half of his attire, which included numerous near-misses in regards to falling over, D-boy picked up his illustrious shirt. And somehow, he approached the task with eager anticipation. Superman had his cape, Zorro had his mask, D-boy had his shirt with "**FUCK**" written on it. Although, in keeping with this analogy, Psychodoughboy would undoubtedly be more suitable in playing a villain, and he snickered despite himself.

With only a slight hesitation, he pulled the article of clothing over his head.

_Transformation complete._


End file.
